


100% Professional

by NotEvenCloseToStraight



Series: Short Stories! [63]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kisses, Fluff and Humor, Healthy Relationship Negotiations, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Wade Wilson, Like Terrible Flirting, M/M, Massage Therapist Peter Parker, Mild Angst, PTSD, Protective Peter Parker, Recovering Wade Wilson, Spideypool - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Therapy, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, ex soldier Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight
Summary: When massage therapist!Peter gets a call for a meet-and-greet appointment in a ritzy part of town, he doesn’t expect tall, scarred and holy muscles to open the door. Drawn first to Wade’s smile and then to the pain radiating out from the soldier, Peter tries to do everything he can to help Wade while also fighting his own attraction because ho ho holy crap is it a bad idea to sleep with clients. He is NOT that kind of massage therapist.Ex- soldier!Wade can hardly leave the house any more, too wracked with pain to make it very far out the door, too self conscious of his ruined skin to attempt dating or even friendships. But when Peter smiles at him, laughs with him, and somehow isn't icked out by Wade’s… mess… he starts thinking that maybe life could be something good again.Healing happens with both hands and hearts, and if Peter can manage to stay even a little bit professional long enough for Wade to get up the courage to ask him on a date, maybe they’ll find another use for all that massage oil.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Short Stories! [63]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/786345
Comments: 201
Kudos: 1352





	1. Chapter 1

Peter doubled checked the address on his phone at least six different times before finally approaching the doorman at the high rise apartment building and clearing his throat. 

“Hi. My name is Peter Parker and I am here for an appointment with a resident of your building?“ 

The doorman looked him over, from the hair Peter had let air dry after a hasty shower, to the scuffed converse on his feet, to the blocky, heavy massage table folded into the bag over Peter’s shoulder. 

“Uh–” Peter fumbled into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m a massage therapist, and he said he’d let the doorman know to expect me. The name is Mr. Wade Wilson…” the words trailed off when the doorman swiped a card through the door and swung it open immediately.

“Oh look at that.” Peter chuckled to himself and hefted his bag a little more securely onto his back. “Mr. Wilson’s name literally opens doors, huh?” 

“Top floor, end unit.” The doorman informed him, motioning Peter in to the lobby. “Have a nice day, Mr. Parker.” 

“Thank you.” Peter tossed the doorman a casual salute, and once inside the lobby, waved at the receptionist as well. “Hi there, I’m going up to Mr. Wilson’s–” 

“Top floor, end unit.” The woman didn’t even look up from her paperwork, but she hit a button that buzzed on the other side of the foyer and Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise when the elevator doors opened automatically. “I’ll let him know you are on your way up. Have a nice day, Mr. Parker.” 

“Uh, yes ma’am.” It didn’t feel right to salute this time around so Peter settled for another slightly awkward wave and hustled over to get the elevator before the doors closed, mashing the button for the top floor. 

The elevator moved with the sort of silence that only came with _very_ expensive buildings, and even though Peter hadn’t thought he looked terrible when he left his place an hour ago, his reflection in the mirrored elevator walls was…

….well it was less than flattering. 

“Great.” Peter groaned and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to calm the wind whooshed fluff into something a little more presentable. “My new client lives on the top floor of an insanely expensive part of town, has a weirdly quiet elevator, a receptionist and door man and I look like Poppy the Troll Princess did my hair. Great first impression." 

The movie reference made Peter smile. Harry and Mary Jane’s little girl was a two foot tall red headed _terror_ but Peter had successfully managed to distract her with repeat showings of _Trolls_ while Harry and MJ managed a much needed date night and now, not only was Peter a _Troll_ movie expert, but he was also Megan’s favorite babysitter which was an accomplishment all in itself. 

Of course, it was the _Troll_ marathon and babysitting that had kept Peter up half the night, and then he’d overslept and was late to work and late getting home to shower again which had led to being late for this exact moment, where his hair looked like it had been lost a fight with an industrial sized hair dryer and the bags under his eyes were deep enough to pack clothes in. 

_Wonderful_. 

The elevator slid to a smooth stop and Peter sighed, picking his bag up and rearranging his expression into something hopefully approaching professional instead of exhausted. 

This was a big client. Whoever _Mr. Wilson_ was had paid twice Peter’s usual fee just so he would come by for a meet and greet. Something about Mr. Wilson being a former soldier and having some scars, some pain issues and nerve damage– he had told Peter over the phone, “ _I don’t want you to be surprised by anything, so if you’d just come by for an appointment, then we can see if you’re willing to work with me_.” 

_Willing to work with me._

Right. As if Peter would turn down a job when he was still struggling to pay rent most months. Squeezing in extra classes and training for his next level therapy license while juggling a free lance position at the Daily Bugle wasn’t easy and every single penny helped. He needed to pay his phone bill damn it, and if that meant taking the subway clear to the ritzy part of town and hauling his massage table to the top of the building for a meet and greet, that’s exactly what Peter was going to do. 

So top floor, end unit it was, and Peter knocked at the door before backing up a few steps to wait for Mr. Wilson to answer. “Twice my usual fee.” Peter told himself, mentally calculating how much of that fee it would cost to get some dinner for his hour long trek back home. “Twice my usual fee just for talking, this will be fine. Twice my usual– oh, hi!” 

He brightened up into a smile when the door swung open. “Hello Mr. Wilson, my name is Peter Parker….” 

Oh _fuck_ , Peter didn’t mean to stop talking but there he went _stopping_ , forgetting whatever he was going to say next and making a quiet, wheezing noise instead. “Oh. _Hi_.” 

“Hi.” Mr. Wilson was a few inches over six feet and filling out a fitted long sleeve with enough muscles to make Peter _choke_ , and yet for some reason the man sounded completely uncertain, his smile just this side of anxious. “Um, thanks for coming over.” 

“It’s–” Peter raised his eyebrows and made a perfunctory attempt to pull his eyes back inside his head. “Yeah, it’s really not a problem. Wow. _Hi_.” 

“….Hi?” Mr. Wilson adjusted his hat over his head in an obviously nervous gesture. “You alright?” 

“Shit.” Peter shook himself and laughed self consciously. “Um, sorry. I promise I’m actually more professional than this. It’s just been a long day already and I dunno what I was expecting when you opened the door but uh… it wasn’t you. _Hi_.” 

“…are you checking me out right now?” Peter couldn’t tell if Mr. Wilson was horrified by the idea or thought it was funny, so he erred on the side of caution and blurted,

“No! I mean yes, but not in a weird way. More like a ‘wow look at all those muscles I definitely know the names of because I’m a professional and went to school for this’.” he nodded emphatically and tried not to feel like a dumb ass. “I was checking you out in– in _that_ way.” 

“Ah.” Mr. Wilson said slowly and Peter mentally screamed at himself to _pull it together_. “Well then. Would you like to come in?”

“I definitely would.” Moment somewhat salvaged, Peter breathed a sigh of relief and followed Mr. Wilson into the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late by the way, the subway had a weird glitch and I ended up having to catch a bus and–” 

“I’ll give you some extra money for a cab or whatever.” Mr. Wilson said offhandedly. “That’s not a problem, I know this is a long way uptown for you. Sit down where ever you want. Can I get you a drink?” 

“No thank you, I have my own water.” Peter pulled a bottle from his bag and sat gingerly on the edge of the nicest leather couch he’d ever seen. “I also brought my table. I know you said you wanted to do a meet and greet this first time around but I’d be happy to… to you know, audition if you’d like. Fifteen or twenty minutes just so you can see how we get along?” 

“I’m not worried about how we will get along.” Mr. Wilson sat down across from Peter, holding a package of wipes on his lap which was… well it was weird, but Peter was being paid a _lot_ for this little meet and greet so he was ready to deal with a little weirdness. “So. Mr. Parker. I got your number from an acquaintance of mine–” 

“Oh, call me Peter.” 

“Alright then.” Mr. Wilson smiled a little, hazel eyes sparking with humor from beneath the brim of his hat. “You can call me Wade. Anyway, Matt Murdock gave me your number and had only great things to say about you. And he emphasized that uh–” 

Wade coughed. “–that you are very _understanding_ when it comes to non typical… things. He says he sent a few clients your way that had specific needs and you were really great about it. Real understanding and accommodating.” 

“Definitely.” Peter said immediately, thinking about how Matt had an issue with too much pressure on his back, how Jessica Jones refused to be undressed, how Norman Osborn’s illness had warped his muscles and made even light touches painful. “Yes, I have several clients that need a little extra effort and that’s completely fine. I have no problem working around whatever you need.” 

“Imagine that, you _are_ professional when you aren’t staring.” Another flash of smile and Peter grinned right back, relieved they’d made it past that initial terribleness and into somewhat more familiar territory. “Alright Pete, so I’ve got scars um– I told you on the phone there was some nerve damage but the scars are– okay–” 

Wade blew out a deep breath, his shoulders tensing as if he were bracing himself. “I’m just gonna show you, kay?” 

“Sure.” Peter encouraged, mystified and perhaps a little nervous. Wade was fully dressed, so it couldn’t be something ~~naked~~ weird, and he had assured Peter at least a dozen times on the phone that it wasn’t like he was missing limbs or had a prosthetic. Just nerve damage and some scars– how bad could it be? “Yeah, just show me. It’s fine.” 

“Kay.” Wade took another one of those deep breaths and took his hat off, then opened the package of wipes and scrubbed at his hands, across his face and down his neck, wiping away what was apparently make up and ….

…. _oh_. 

_Oh wow._

Wade’s skin was _covered_ in scars, raised lines and darker patches criss crossing his hands, crawling up his neck and spreading across his face to cover his scalp. His skin looked dry, irritated where the ball cap had rubbed uncomfortably and when Wade shifted under Peter’s scrutiny, his face pinched in a grimace as if even that small movement had hurt. 

“Staring for a completely different reason now, huh?” Wade tossed the wipes towards the waste basket and spread his hands helplessly. “So I’m um– yeah. This is– yep. I uh–” he laughed, but it was an awful, self deprecating sound. “Shit. I think I preferred the way you stared at the door to the way you’re looking at me now.” 

“I wasn’t trying to stare.” Peter was on his feet before he even realized he’d moved, crossing over to Wade’s chair and reaching for his hand. “You don’t mind do you? I just want a closer look.” 

“I–” Wade shrugged helplessly. “Sure?” 

“Your nerve damage.” Peter ran his fingers lightly over a scar that crossed Wade’s palm, and then up to one at his wrist that disappeared beneath the sleeve. “Numb in some areas and over sensitive in others?” 

“…yes.” 

“All over your body?” Peter’s mind was racing, thinking about pressure points to avoid and how to incorporate something for pain relief into his usual lotion and wondering whether or not such extensive injuries had compromised muscle anywhere in Wade’s body. “How’s your skin, should I use something extra moisturizing for you? Have you ever tried a body conditioner with avocado? I have a small bottle in my bag and I bet it would help with–” 

Peter’s fingers faltered when he saw the bruises at the base of Wade’s neck. “What happened here?” 

“Knot in my back.” Wade was barely breathing, his gaze focused on where Peter’s other hand still held his own. “Tried to work it out using the corner of the wall but all it did was bruise me.” 

“I can work on that tonight.” His want to _help_ over riding any sense of personal space, Peter leaned further over Wade and drew gentle but purposeful fingers along the broad shoulders. “Oh yeah, I can feel it right there. Can’t turn your head all the way?” 

“Not at all.” Wade forced out a slow breath when he started to get light headed, overwhelmed by the simple encounter. “Gotta say, people don’t usually see this mess and start asking how they can _help_. Usually they just run the other way." 

“Well, I’m not most people.” Peter said mildly, feeling gingerly along the back of Wade’s neck. “Does this hurt?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, so in my bag I have a sorta generic diagram of a body and if you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to spend some time figuring out where your pain triggers are and where you are numb.” Peter could feel the ridges of scars all the way down Wade’s arm and he was very careful as he squeezed at Wade’s bicep to test the give of muscle. “Do you have any muscle damage? An injury like this one–” 

“IED.” Wade supplied quietly. “Just about killed me.” 

“—shit.” Peter shook his head. “Um, extensive injuries like this can really compromise your muscle while you’re healing. Restricted activity and all that. I’m not saying you should let me look at your medical records, but it would help the process if you could at least tell me anything along those lines.” 

Peter absolutely did _not_ think about how thick Wade’s thighs were as he tested the muscle there too, nodding in satisfaction when Wade didn’t flinch. “You sure seem solid, but there’s a thin line with massage between ‘this feels good’ and ‘holy shit I’m dying’ so you’ll need to be pretty vocal with me while I’m still figuring you out, okay?” 

“While you’re still figuring me out.” Wade repeated. “Does this mean you aren’t grossed out by me?” 

“Why would I be grossed out?” Peter scooted backwards so he could feel down Wade’s calves, and then stopped mid motion. “Oh by the way I’m not just– not just feeling you up here. I just realized I didn’t even ask if I could touch you but I am just checking to see–” 

“It’s fine.” Wade interrupted, and in a soft tone Peter couldn’t quite decipher, “Whatever you’re doing is fine. You’re one of the first people to not act like I’ve got leprosy or something and it’s–it’s nice. Even my physical therapist is sorta weird about my skin.” 

“That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, a physical therapist acting like that.” Peter switched to the other leg, frowning when he felt a divot in the calf muscle. “This leg is worse than the other?” 

“That entire side of my body.” Wade confirmed. “Took the brunt of the hit.” 

“I’ll make a note of it.” Peter sat back on his heels and reached for both Wade’s hands, pressing at the base of each finger. “I’m taking an extra class in reflexology this month and I’d love to try some on you. It’s less touch intensive in case you aren’t comfortable with that, but still has great benefits.”

“Uh, sure?” 

“Great.” Peter got to his feet and went for his table. “I’m going to set up and you get undressed to whatever your comfort level is–” 

“No, I don’t want a massage tonight.” Wade cut in and Peter paused with his table half out of the bag. “I just wanted to talk, to meet you. That’s it.” 

“Well sure.” Peter gestured between them lamely. “But you’re hurting and I can help with that right now. At least fix the knot in your back and get you a little relief. I came all this way, I’m more than happy to work on you for a little bit.”

He grinned and added, “And not just cos I was checking you out earlier. I promise I’m one hundred percent professional once the table comes out and the calming music starts to play." 

“That’s great, but I’m not ready for it.” Wade flushed and looked away, putting his hat back on and shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “The meet and greet is more cos I– I dunno if I can handle someone touching me but I had to try. You’re nice and all and it’s pretty fuckin’ amazing that you are all gung ho about this. I really figured you’d see this mess and realize it was all over my body and bail out the front door. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t but I– I still need some time to get used to the idea.”

“I see.” Peter put his table down and nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s fine. Understandable.” 

“It’s not understandable.” Wade countered. “Grown ass man, former soldier afraid of being touched? It’s _not_ understandable, but it is what it is, so I’ve got to deal. I’m sorry you came all this way for just a few minutes though." 

Wade dug out his wallet and pulled out some cash. “I um– can I think about it and call you this next week?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Disappointed for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Peter nodded again. "But here, let me give you this.” 

He got the diagram out of his bag and pulled the bottle of avocado skin conditioner out as well. “Use this maybe just on your hands so you get used to it, and if you have the time, mark on here anywhere I’ll need to be careful when I work on you. Numb spots, sore spots, anything like that.” 

“Thank you.” Wade still looked embarrassed and Peter sort of hated it. “I appreciate this, Pete. I really do. I’m sure it was weird to show up just to talk and I didn’t know how to tell you it definitely wasn’t a sex thing without sounding like a creeper so–” 

His eyes lit in surprise when Peter laughed. “Oh good, you laughed. That could’a been _real_ awkward.” 

“Can’t possibly have been as awkward as me shouting _wow_ when you opened the door.” Peter left the diagram and lotion on the table and straightened back up to wink at Wade. “If you call me for an appointment, I promise not to be half as weird next time around.”

“I sorta like your weird.” Wade admitted with a wink of his own and Peter scrunched his nose and laughed again. “I mean, I’m sure you’re great with all your clients but this was about a billion times easier than I thought it would be. I really appreciate it.” 

“It’s no problem.” Peter pocketed the cash Wade gave him, glancing at it only long enough to confirm it was twice his usual rate, along with the promised extra so he could call a car to take him home. “Feels like I’m robbing you though, with you paying double for fifteen minutes of me being dumb and then feeling you up. How about I don’t charge you for the first real appointment?” 

“There’s a pretty big chance I’m gonna freak out and not actually call you, so keep the money and don’t worry about the discount or whatever.” Wade admitted as he walked Peter to the door. “I don’t get out a whole lot and inviting someone over is about as brave as I get these days. Inviting someone over to see me in my birthday suit is basically terrifying.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t ever stare at my clients in their birthday suit.” Peter said solemnly. “Minor peeks beneath the towel and that’s it. Five second rule, you know. It’s a professional thing." 

He was _definitely_ flirting and that was _definitely_ a bad idea, but Peter couldn’t seem to help himself. The first impression of Wade as _eep_ holy muscles was firmly stuck in Peter’s mind, and combined with the few smiles he’d glimpsed and the way Wade’s voice had gone soft and a little unsteady while Peter was touching him…

…well _shit_ , Peter never ever flirted with clients but he sure wanted to flirt with Wade. 

“Five second rule?” Wade was asking and Peter nodded as seriously as he could manage. “I feel like there’s an inappropriate joke in there somewhere.” 

“I can practically guarantee it!” Peter teased and Wade grinned and _damn_ if that didn’t do something to Peter’s blood pressure. “Okay, I’m gonna go before I do something stupid like ask you out for dinner. I’ve got a rule about dating clients and–” 

“–so if I don’t call you for a massage, you’ll take me out for dinner?” Wade challenged playfully, and then just as quickly he took it back with a hasty, “I mean, I know you wouldn’t. Sorry. That’s crazy. What I meant was–” 

“You’ll call me if you decide you want a massage.” Peter waved off Wade’s stuttering. “Right?” 

“I–” Wade cleared his throat, a flash of panic darkening his hazel eyes. “Yes. If I want one, I’ll call you.” 

“Okay.” Peter heaved his table up and over his shoulders. “And um, if you don’t want a massage, are you a steakhouse sorta guy or a Chinese food buffet sort of guy?” 

“Are you serious?” Wade looked like he was half hoping Peter _was_ serious, and like he was half terrified Peter would laugh at him. 

“Super serious.” Peter confirmed. “Not every day I meet a hunky former soldier in a high rise apartment. Steakhouse or Chinese buffet?” 

“I’ll uh–” Wade held up his phone sheepishly. “I’ll let you know?” 

“Sounds good.” Peter flashed finger guns at Wade because apparently he was physically incapable of ending a conversation like an adult. “Looking forward to hearing from you.” 

***************

Peter called a cab and was only a few blocks from his place when his phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

**Unknown Number** : _Can I make an appointment for next Tuesday evening? For a massage, not for dinner._

Peter smothered a smile and texted back: _It would have been very weird if you were making an appointment for a dinner date. I feel like there’s only certain types of people who have to make appointments for dates, you know?_

He waited a beat, then took a chance and texted: _Exactly what kind of massage therapist do you take me for?_

It was almost five minutes before the reply came.

 **Unknown Number** : _Oh you are OBVIOUSLY 100% professional. 100%._

*****************

Wade’s phone chimed just as he was opening the lotion Peter had left behind, and with his heart in his throat, he opened it to read: 

**From Peter** : _You say 100% professional like you don’t believe me. I’ll show up in a tuxedo next time. Then you’ll see how professional I am. That’ll learn ya._

Wade hadn’t laughed in a very long time, but he laughed right then. When Matt Murdock had suggested Wade call Peter for a massage, the lawyer had said it with a sly sort of smile on his face and now Wade knew _exactly_ why that was. 

Peter was all sorts of Wade’s type, all long legs and thick hair and big brown eyes that were mostly earnest but also fucking _devilish_. He was funny and he was smart and when he’d smiled Wade had actually felt it clear to his bones. 

Plus, he hadn’t flinched away from Wade’s scars, hadn’t flinched away from touching him and Peter had actually looked disappointed when Wade had turned down the massage, as if he really wanted to help and that–

–that wasn’t something Wade wasn’t used to at all anymore. 

It had been both eye opening and heart breaking for Wade to realize how little people wanted to help him now that he wasn’t pretty. He was a mess now, and people stared at his injuries or treated him like he was damaged and breakable or _worse_ like they couldn’t see him at all, like he was invisible. 

But Peter didn’t act like Wade was invisible. 

The kid had all but asked Wade out on a fucking date. 

A _date_.

“I can’t sleep with my massage therapist.” Wade muttered, then shook his head because if the thought of someone seeing enough of his skin for a massage made him feel panicky, the thought of sex was nearly _crippling_. 

Being face to face with someone beautiful when he was a mess? Skin to skin when he was ruined after the explosion? 

_No thank you._

**From Peter** : _Oh shit, was the tuxedo question weird? I swear I’m a legit professional Wade, idk why I’m being such a dumbass around you. How does next Tuesday at seven sound?_

 **From Wade** : _Sounds good._

Wade took a deep breath and fired off another text before he lost his nerve and called the whole thing off. 

**From Wade** : _I can’t wait._

****************


	2. Chapter 2

Tuesday came faster than Peter was expecting. 

Well to be fair, Tuesday came around at exactly the right speed, but Peter’s week had been completely exhausting and the days managed to get away from him so before he knew it, it was _Tuesday_ again. 

The part time free lance at the Daily Bugle turned into a full time week long gig when the editor nearly blew a fuse worrying about who was going to photograph the visit from the President. Peter had spent the better part of the next six days following the presidential parade around town and while the paycheck was going to be great, Peter’s entire schedule had gone to shit. 

He was late to every single one of his massage appointments, barely managed a full meal the entire week, and by the time Tuesday rolled around again and he got the reminder about Wade’s appointment, Peter was halfway past frazzled and running on fumes. 

_Here we go._

The doorman at Wade’s building was apparently expecting Peter this time around and opened the door immediately, and even though the receptionist didn’t spare Peter a glance, she hit the button for the elevator without being prompted. 

It was much less awkward this time around, and as Peter waited for the elevator to make its super smooth journey to the top floor, he fixed his perpetually messy hair in the mirrored walls and texted Wade:

 **From Peter** : _Hey Wade, I’m on my way up to your place. Dunno if your super fancy receptionist let you know or not._

 **From Wade** : _She did, but thanks for the heads up anyway. The door is unlocked, just come right in and get set up._

 **From Peter:** _I don’t make a habit of just walking into people’s apartments._

 **From Wade** : _And I don’t make a habit of letting it happen, but you’re fine. Just come in._

 **From Peter:** _Alright, I’ll see you in a minute._

Walking right into someone’s apartment certainly wasn’t the _weirdest_ request Peter had come across as a massage therapist– in fact, he’d dropped several clients because of much _weirder_ requests, but he still hesitated, still knocked a couple times before opening the door and calling, “Wade? It’s Peter! I’m here for your massage appointment!”

“Well I sure hope it’s you.” Wade called from somewhere in the back. “Other wise something funky happened in the thirty seconds since someone _else_ named Peter texted me in the elevator.” 

Peter smiled to himself and closed the door, kicking off his shoes and trying to figure out the best place to set up his table. The couch looked like it cost more than Peter’s rent so he definitely wasn’t touching _that_ and the coffee table probably weighed a thousand pounds and since Peter didn’t break a hundred and seventy five pounds on a good day, there was no way he could move it. 

“Just set up right there in the middle, no need to move anything.” Wade spoke from the hallway and Peter looked up with a ready smile that stretched even bigger when he saw Wade was shirtless, clad only in a pair of loose shorts. “How’s it going, Pete?” 

“ _Hey_.” Peter thumped his bag to the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets, working to keep his eyes off of Wade’s sort of ridiculously ripped body and on Wade’s face instead. “You must be feeling better about all this, huh? I sorta expected you to be wearing a full body suit and gloves, not showing off your nip-nops right away.” 

Wade raised practically non existent eyebrows and Peter closed his eyes briefly, muffling a curse. “I didn’t mean for that to be rude. Also didn’t mean to call your nipples _nip-nops_. I only meant– holy shit, I was trying to– fuck me, I am so bad at this.” 

“It’s fine.” Wade cracked a smile at Peter’s embarrassment. “You making fun of me makes me feel normal.” 

“I am definitely not making fun of you.” Peter was _horrified_ by his blunder. “Definitely not doing that. Christ, don’t think I’m laughing at you or anything.”

“Pete.” Wade took a few seconds to look Peter over, lingering over the thick hair and down to slim hands and further still to maybe just check out a little bit of an ass that was begging to be tore the hell up.

“Seriously, I’m sorry.” Peter said again when Wade didn’t say anything for a minute. “Wade?" 

“Really, it’s fine.” Wade dragged his eyes back up to Peter’s face and tried for a smile more reassuring than lecherous. “And I’m not actually feeling better about getting a massage, but I am very _very_ drunk and highly susceptible to suggestion, so this is as relaxed as I’m going to get. Maybe let’s get this over with before all the tequila catches up to me and I pass out face down on your table.”

Peter laughed quietly, relieved Wade hadn’t taken his teasing too seriously. “Oh my god. Alright yeah, come on. I’ll set up right here. How was your week? Do anything fun?” 

“I don’t get out a lot.” Wade set a couple water bottles down on the couch and once Peter had his table up and secure, stretched out on top of the sheet. “What about you?” 

“Actually, I got dragged into photographing the President’s visit.” Peter hurried around the room looking for switches to turn the lights down. “I work free lance for the Bugle and Jameson is a grade A asshole, but he pays good. I’ve never been so close to the Secret Service though, those guys are dicks. They wanted to go through all my pictures and make sure nothing was compromising, whatever the hell that means. It’s just a bunch of people shaking hands and vaguely patriotic shots of flags waving and sunshine. Nothing compromising about it.” 

Peter flipped through the music on his phone until he found a playlist he thought Wade would like. “I ended up working like sixty hours which is almost what I do in an entire month. It’s great cos I’m thinking about moving and this will help with the security deposit. My landlord will be mad I’m moving but I mean, I’ve complained about my neighbors making drugs in their apartment at least a dozen times and he hasn’t done anything. I’ve thought about calling the cops but snitches get stitches and honestly, I like my face. So I’m just going to move and let him deal with it.” 

He’d brought along an extra bottle of the avocado based lotion he’d left with Wade last week, and Peter pumped some into his hands and to warm between his palms. “My friends Harry and MJ are moving to the suburbs since they’ve started a family. They offered to let me move in with them and take the spare bedroom or whatever but you know, who wants to live in the suburbs? That sounds–” 

“You talk when you’re nervous, Pete?” Wade interrupted, and Peter’s mouth clicked shut. “You are saying a _lot_ of words right now.” 

“I um–” Peter coughed. “I mean, yeah I talk when I’m nervous but I don’t want you to think I’m nervous about touching you. Cos I’m not. Not nervous, I mean. I can’t really say I’m looking forward to getting my hands on you without sounding like a creeper but–” 

“ _Pete_.” 

“Sorry.” Peter ran his hands through his hair and then mentally kicked himself because he’d forgotten his hands were caked in lotion, which was now caked in his hair. “I’ll shut up.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Wade resettled on the table and tried to relax and Peter– Peter tried not to stare at the shift and flex of Wade’s shoulders and back. “I don’t mind the talking, I just didn’t want you to be nervous about touching me. It looks worse than it is, but it isn’t… I mean it’s not terrible.” 

“What’s not terrible?” 

Wade propped up on one elbow and sent Peter a disbelieving look. “The _scars_ , Pete. They look worse than they really are. Don’t feel half as bad, I promise.” 

“Oh.” Peter reached out with one hand and let it coast gently _gently_ from Wade’s shoulder down to the small of his back, trying not to read too far into how Wade shivered and seemed to press closer into his palm. “I’m more concerned with how it feels. Not to be rude, but I don’t care how everything looks, I just want to make sure you enjoy this.”

Wade’s hazel eyes went _very_ wide and Peter groaned. “Sorry, that came out awkward. I swear I’m not usually this terrible. Tell you what, for the rest of this appointment I’m only going to ask you massage related things and definitely not blurt out any nonsense or run my mouth. How does that sound?” 

“Boring.” Wade grunted and lay back down. “I think you’re more concerned with being professional than I am.” 

“Yeah but when massage therapists stray from professional we get involved in sketchy things and then the cops start showing up to interrupt the fun appointments.” Peter retorted and then almost immediately, “See what I did there? Opened my mouth and it got weird. I’m just going to shut up and start.” 

“…don’t stop talking.” the words were almost muffled in the table, and Wade hesitated before adding, “I like it. Makes this feel less like necessary therapy and more like something I’m doing because I enjoy it.”

“You never had a massage before this?” Peter asked curiously. “Not even once?” 

“Real men don’t pay pretty boys to slather them up in lotion unless it ends in various happy moments.” Wade retorted and Peter huffed a surprised laugh. “See? I can be unprofessional too. Now we’re even.”

“Now we’re even.” Peter re-lotioned his hands and took a deep breath. “Alright, I’m gonna start on your shoulders and then work down your arms to your hands. Usually I do arms and hands last, but I want to make sure I’m getting the pressure just right and that you’re comfortable before I move anywhere that could trigger pain, okay?” 

“Okay.” Wade had to tamp down a sliver of fear the tequila hadn’t quite managed to mask. He didn’t want to say he was terrified to be touched but… but yeah, Wade was pretty fucking terrified to be touched. But he didn’t say that. Instead he insisted, “I’m ready.” 

“Use your words and tell me the minute you hate something.” Peter said firmly. “I’ve worked with several people with injuries or sensitivities but everyone is different and since this is my first time with you, I need you to talk to me and let me know what’s going on. Once I know your body better–” 

“–you’re swaying unprofessional, Pete.” Wade sassed, sort of loving that even when Peter was being professional, he still managed to tease. 

_Normal. This is what normal people do._

“–oh my god.” Peter sighed overly loud. “–once I know your body better, this will be easier but for right now, lots of communication, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Wade clutched at the sheet and closed his eyes tight. "Lots of communication." 

“Okay.” Another deep breath and Wade wondered for a minute if Peter was as nervous as he was. “Here we go.” 

****************

 _Trapezius_. Peter thought to himself as he worked his fingers along the right side of Wade’s neck and down over the collarbone and to the shoulder. The scars weren’t as thick here as they were further down on Wade’s back but it was still hard to look at the branching lines and feel the raised edges. The injury could have killed Wade just as easily as it had left him alive and seeing the sheer scope of the damage up close made Peter’s mouth dry and his heart clench. 

_Levataor scapulae, rhomboid minor, rhomboid major_ – Wade jerked and Peter instantly let go. “Whoops, sorry about that. You alright?” 

“Nope, that one hurts.” Wade hissed through clenched teeth."Jesus, maybe we just avoid it." 

Peter leaned over to make a note on one of his diagrams and went back to the same muscle, lightening the pressure and changing the direction of his fingers. “How’s this? Better, worse, tell me the truth.” 

“Better.” Wade admitted after a few seconds. “But it still hurts like a bitch.” 

“Like…a.. Bitch…” Peter wrote down and Wade chuckled a little bit. “Kay, we’ll move on from there.”

 _Deltoids_. Wade’s shoulder was rock hard and Peter knew it was just as much scar tissue as it was muscle but he still felt gingerly along trying to feel where man met injury, where the slight give of solid muscles met unyielding damage. 

“This will soften after a while.” he told Wade confidently. “Consistent massage does wonders, and it doesn’t even have to be professional. If you work at it by yourself the scar tissue will soften and help lessen the appearance of the _actual_ scars, too.” 

“I know better than to hope for that.” Wade made an effort to sound joking, but he knew when Peter clicked his tongue in sympathy that the joke had fallen flat. “But thanks anyway.” 

_Triceps, brachialis, biceps._ Peter could just barely close both hands around Wade’s arm and he knew if the former soldier flexed, his fingers wouldn’t touch. _Good Christ._ Peter was too professional to be imagining how easily Wade could pick him up with arms that size but… but… 

Well anyway. 

_Brachioradalis, radialis longus, radialis brevis._ Peter could feel the rod and screws that had been used to piece Wade’s left forearm together and even the lightest touch made Wade tense and try to pull away so Peter settled for long, soothing strokes with very easy pressure to try and loosen the stiff muscles.

"Both sides?” he asked and Wade muttered, “Just the one. Everything’s worse on the left hand side." 

"Okay.” Peter made another note on his chart and moved onto Wade’s hand. 

_Extensor digilorum_ was the long muscle that led to fingers and Peter kept the same light pressure before moving on to the wrist, bending and flexing it until Wade relaxed and let it hang boneless. “Not to be weird, but I’m gonna hold your hand now.” he said out loud and caught just the hint of a smile. “Don’t worry sir, this is one hundred percent professional.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure–” Wade jumped when Peter wove their fingers together, his heart suddenly in his throat. “ _Shit_ , shit– sorry.” 

“Is this too uncomfortable?” Peter paused mid squeeze. “It helps give your fingers a wider range of motion but I can stop if you don’t like it.” 

“It’s fine.” Wade turned his head the other way because he felt like he was blushing and _fuck_ that was stupid. “Been a long time since someone held my hand.” 

“Um–” 

“Longer since I had to pay someone to do it.” Wade wasn’t entirely sure why he dropped that completely embarrassing factoid, but he followed it up with, “You know how weird it is to offer people money to hold hands? Like hey man, can I borrow your digits, here’s a fiver." 

“Oh my god.” Peter tried to muffle a laugh. “I feel like most people don’t admit to hiring hand holding hookers. You really _are_ drunk, huh?” 

“Absolutely sloshed.” Wade agreed and this time Peter didn’t bother hiding the laugh. “Hate to admit that it takes a fifth of tequila to get brave enough to be shirtless but these days it definitely does.” 

“It shouldn’t.” Peter kept his hand resting between Wade’s shoulder blades as he crossed to the other side of the table. “You’re gorgeous, Wade.” 

There went his heart jumping to his throat again and Wade had to wait a few seconds before he could talk again. “I don’t pay extra for lies and compliments, kiddo.” 

Peter got more lotion and felt gingerly along Wade’s left trapezius. “I am both shocked and appalled that you think I’m lying. What sort of massage therapist do you take me for?”

Wade breathed out shakily but didn’t answer, and Peter gave him a soft reminder of “Let me know if this hurts.” before he began again. 

**************

**************

“So.” Peter dried his hands on the kitchen towel and went to start gathering his supplies up. “How’d I do? I know we only got to shoulders and arms today, but I feel like I’m pretty comfortable with pressure and all that sort of thing. You want to do this every Tuesday? If you think a full body would be too much, we could do shorter sessions twice a week and sort of ease into something full body as we go?" 

“Uh about that.” Wade handed Peter his usual payment, then added another fifty even though Peter protested. “No, keep that. Part of it for a tip and part of it to cover the commute time. Keep it.” 

“Thanks.” Peter pocketed the money. “So. Appointment?” 

“I don’t know.” Wade was dressed again, but he felt more uncomfortable _now_ than he had when he was half naked and on the table. “I feel like maybe that’s not a good idea. Not um– not that you weren’t great, I mean I feel–” he rotated his shoulders carefully. “This is the best I’ve felt in a while. But all the same maybe we shouldn’t do this again.” 

“…I don’t understand.” Peter tried and failed to hide the hurt in his voice, and then the surprise when he realized he really _was_ hurt. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

_What was that all about, two appointments and his feelings were hurt that Wade wanted to cancel?_

“It’s not you.” Wade ran a hand over his bare scalp, then grimaced because even though it had been a while since he’d had hair, he still missed it. “It’s uh– It’s me. This is weird for me.” 

Peter just _looked_ at him and Wade clenched his jaw and admitted, “I like you, Pete. And I don’t like a lot of people. And you being nice to me and then touching me– it’s been a long time since either of those things happened and I don’t want it to get weird between us if I uh– you know. If I end up– you know.” 

“I know lots of places to push that are basically instant boner killers.” Peter said offhandedly, smiling when he saw the relief and _surprise_ flicker across Wade’s face. “And even if I didn’t, who cares? There’s lotion and hands touching, boners happen. It doesn’t mean anything and it’s definitely not going to make this weird. I’m way too professional for that.” 

“Pete–” 

“I like you too.” Peter interrupted. “If it wasn’t particularly obvious from our first meeting where I basically drooled over you and then made an attempt at truly awful flirting, I like you too. And usually I’d say no to working on a client than I also want to ask out to dinner, but in your case—” he shrugged. “–I don’t really want anyone else doing this for you.”

“…yeah?” Wade was almost too afraid to even hope. "You think?" 

“Yes.” Peter nodded emphatically. “So what if we make another appointment, we can spend the entire time talking while I work on you and then it’s like a win win for everyone right? Super hot super secret reclusive former soldier gets company and struggling to make rent recent college grad–” 

He pointed to himself. “–can pay his electric bill. It will help you with your physical therapy and give us a chance to know each other.” 

Wade must have looked like he was going to say _no_ again, because Peter added, “Me liking you won’t affect anything about this, Wade.” he motioned between their bodies. “Despite my severe lack of brain/mouth filter, I _am_ a professional. Trained, licensed, all of that. I know regular massages will help you so I want to keep working with you. Whatever this flirty bullshit is– that’s just a bonus alright? Unnecessary and unimportant and not going to have any affect on your hour long massage therapy.” 

"Seems like a hell of a bonus.” Wade was hard pressed to think of the last time he’d wanted to flirt with anyone, and it was driving him crazy that the _anyone_ was also his massage therapist. No way this is professional. No way Peter would really be willing to– “You think it will work?" 

“Absolutely.” Peter promised. “But if you’re not super sure, then stop booking appointments and let me just take you out for a date. Or tell me I have no chance for a date and to stop flirting, and I’ll just be your massage therapist. But I think…” he raised his eyebrows hopefully. “…we could settle on a happy medium where we see each other in a professional setting but also get to be friends who maybe flirt too?” 

“I could handle friends who maybe flirt too.” Wade said after a long moment, scarcely believing the conversation was even happening. "I think I’d fucking love that." 

“I don’t mind the scars, Wade.” Peter’s voice softened. “Not as a massage therapist and not as me either. I promise.” 

“Damn, Murdock knew what the hell he was doing when he recommended you, huh?” Wade coughed to clear what felt suspiciously like tears from his throat. “Alright then. So long as you don’t feel uncomfortable, I’d– I’d like if you came back.” 

“Tuesday.” Peter said confidently, hoisting his table up and over his shoulder. “Drink lots of water after a massage and remember to stretch. Text me what time works for you, okay?” 

“Okay.” Wade managed a smile. “Thanks, Pete.” 

“Text me a time for next week.” Peter said again. “And if you want? Maybe text me just to talk.” 

“Alright.” Another smile, but this was one a little more certain. “I’ll… do that.” 

“Talk to you later.” Peter finger gunned– _seriously_ , why couldn’t he just wave goodbye?– and headed out the door, reaching for his phone when it buzzed in his pocket before he even reached the elevator. 

**From Wade** : _Not to be sappy and disgusting, but your terrible flirting has been better therapy than a whole year of rehab._

 **From Peter** : _That was absolutely sappy and disgusting and you should be embarrassed._

 **From Peter** : _And what the hell, my flirting isn’t terrible._

**From Wade:** _It absolutely is terrible and WHOA what happened to being professionally polite?_

**From Peter** : _Via text all bets are off. Besides, you’re awfully chatty over text too AND you already admitted to liking me so the 100% professional guarantee is face to face only._

 **From Wade** : _Alright then, tell me something 100% non professional_

**From Peter:** _You flexed earlier and I almost had a heart attack. Like what the fuck, muscles?_

Wade was halfway through a bottle of water when the text from Peter came through and he choked on a hard swallow, spitting water out across the floor and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. 

**From Wade** : _Thanks for that_

 **From Pete:** _I was being serious!_

 **From Wade:** … _yeah, me too._


	3. Chapter 3

“Tell me about Gwen.” Wade flinched when Peter’s fingers dug too sharply into his back, and Peter soothed with a quiet sound and lightened the pressure. “You mentioned her last week. Girlfriend?" 

"Wade.” Peter sighed over loud. “Don’t you think I would have mentioned a _girlfriend_ at some point in the last month? Every week I come here, strip you down, oil you up–” Wade snorted a laugh and Peter grinned. “–and then we spend all week texting like our fingers are gonna fall off. What part of that sounds like I have a girlfriend?" 

"Okay, not a girlfriend then.” Another flinch over a particularly sore spot. “Ouch, get away from there, Pete." 

"I will do no such thing.” The brunette said blandly, gently but no less purposefully working at the knot near the base of Wade’s spine. “You’ve got a pile of bullshit right here that makes my back hurt just thinking about it, so you’ll lay here and take it like a champ. Think of America and it will all be over soon." 

"Wow, we’ve really just slid right past professional and straight into slightly abusive territory– _OW_!” Wade jumped when Peter pinched at his side, jumped and then _gulped_ when the pinch turned into a touch that was damn near a caress as Peter settled him back down. “Um… what’s up?" 

"Sorry.” Peter’s palm lingered for just few seconds more, then he went back to work. “I didn’t really think about how it might hurt you to jump like that. Sorry." 

"You’re apologizing for making me jump but not for pinching me?" 

"Talk shit, get hit.” Peter said lightly and Wade laughed again. “Anyway. Gwen is definitely not my girlfriend. She has a sort of boyfriend right now anyway, and when we tried dating before, it just didn’t work out. She’s got all these big plans to save the world by taking on big companies for all their environmental disregard and terrible health benefits for employees and I want to stay home and eat pizza. Obviously that’s two different goal sets.”

“Don’t mean there isn’t something there.” 

“Wade, last week she posted an article about how billionaires shouldn’t exist because they only get that way by stepping on the backs of others and it was unethical to the point of demanding a guillotine.” Peter pointed out. “She got eggs thrown at her as she walked into work, so she whipped around and threw eggs right back. She had a twelve pack in her purse for such an occasion.” 

"She sounds real pleasant.” Wade grunted and Peter countered, “Gwen is _wonderful_. She just refuses to take shit for saying what she thinks. I wish I was half as brave." 

"I dunno, coming to random guy’s apartments to give them massages seems pretty brave.” Wade hissed out a breath when Peter flipped the towel up over his legs and started in at his calves. “I could be a serial killer, Pete. This could be most dangerous place in the world." 

"I know about a billion spots on your body to press at to make you scream.” Peter said dryly. “I’m not worried about it. Also, threatening that you may in fact be a serial killer is like the worst flirting ever. Total boner killer." 

"I wasn’t trying to flirt.” Wade denied. “That would just be creepy, flirting with you while you’re rubbing my naked body. Stay professional Pete, _damn_. Mentioning boners while I’m vulnerable seems like a quick way to get the cops called on you." 

"You’re about to get pinched again.” Peter threatened, but he was laughing, and Wade settled back down onto the table to just _listen_. 

A whole month they’d been doing this now, Peter coming all the way uptown to work on Wade. Twice weekly, shorter sessions seemed to be better for Wade so Peter had adjusted his rate accordingly and Wade had compensated by actually paying _more_ to cover the transportation times. Peter fussed about the money via text, Wade replied with snark and sass, Peter sent a barrage of memes back, Wade rolled his eyes over and over at the nonsense… it was good. 

It was _good_ and Wade didn’t bother lying to himself about how much the massages were helping him heal, how much he enjoyed Peter’s company, how his face lit up every time his phone chimed. 

And it wasn’t professional– well, the _massages_ were professional minus a little good natured ribbing, but nothing else was. Peter was open and honest and teasing, Wade was sarcastic and probably obnoxious and when Peter had called him yesterday to talk about his day at work, the phone call lasted for well over an hour before they said good bye. 

Peter was outright blatant in talking about how he liked Wade’s body, he joked about swooning for muscles, poked fun at Wade for ogling his butt and Wade couldn’t deny it. They joked about Wade being a sugar daddy every time money passed hands and Peter talked about needing to pick up more clients like Wade if this was how rich people acted and there were a million references to ‘this isn’t porn, I’m not that kind of a massage therapist’ and it– it–

–well, it was flirting and it was attraction despite Wade’s scars and the several year age difference. It was easy and painless after so much of his life being awful and Wade didn’t know the last time he’d thought about dating or even sex but holy shit, Peter made him think all _sorts_ of things. 

It wasn’t professional, but it was certainly _something_. 

“Turn over for me?” Peter smoothed his hands down Wade’s side and patted at his hip. “Let me work at your front a little bit." 

"Um–” Wade hesitated, suddenly aware that all his thoughts about Peter had led to a rather delicate… _situation_. “Pete, why don’t we hold off a bit?” 

"It was alright last time, wasn’t it?” Peter busied himself at his bag for a moment to give Wade a bit of privacy. “Didn’t hurt too bad?" 

"Well no, but uh, seriously, lets give it a minute.” Wade’s rise and shine wasn’t exactly _unimpressive_ but he knew damn well the first time to show it off wasn’t mid-massage. “I’m just gonna… meditate on my Grammy a little bit.” 

"I brought a weighted blanket for you.” Peter held up the blanket with an almost sheepish smile. “Last night when we were texting, you mentioned how since the accident you started standing sideways, always trying to protect your front and that you didn’t realize it til I asked you to turn over last appointment and it about made you panic." 

”…alright?“ 

"So I brought you a weighted blanket.” Peter shook out the quilt and offered it up. “I thought maybe it would feel like body armor or something, maybe it would feel like protection? And it would take care of that little bit of panic you get when you’re belly up and vulnerable.” 

“Belly up, huh?” Wade felt like he wanted to cry all the sudden, and while it was a thankfully instant boner killer, he still hated it, still hated being brought to the edge just because Peter had not only _listened_ as he rambled, but also thought of a way to help. “So I freaked out, and you brought me a blanket? Neat.” 

His therapists had never tried a blanket. They’d been more worried about how he still had nightmares and couldn’t walk past tall walls with no windows. God forbid a big truck rolled past on the street, it sent Wade into a straight panic every time and even though he’d purposefully bought the penthouse apartment so he didn’t have to hear traffic noise and random voices, the panic still crept up and lingered if he looked out the window too long. 

He hated it– he _hated_ it– and now Pete had bought him a weighted blanket just to try and help and it was all a little too much.

"That’s– Pete, that’s completely unnecessary.” He insisted, cursing when his voice shook. “I don’t need a blankie, I’m not a child. I’ll roll over and it’s fine." 

"I’m sure it’s unnecessary and I know you’re fine.” Peter ignored Wade’s protest and stretched the blanket out anyway, settling it at the sides of the table. “But tell me how this is anyway." 

The blanket was heavy and _warm_ , comfortingly weighted along every major point of Wade’s body, from the tip of his toes clear to his shoulders and even the base of his neck. It felt like full body armor and when Wade breathed out it fell even heavier across his frame. 

And for the first time since the fucking explosion, Wade actually felt _safe_. 

"Wade?” Peter murmured. “You’ve been quiet for a while, is everything okay?" 

"It’s–everything is–” _Damn it_. Wade screwed his eyes up tight and pushed his face into the table as he started shaking. “ _Shit_." 

"Hey hey hey.” Peter knelt at the front of the front of the table and reached for Wade’s hands. “Wade. Too much? Should I get rid of it? I’m sorry, I was just trying to help." 

Wade pushed up onto his elbows but kept his head hanging, and Peter stood up again, stepping close until Wade’s forehead was resting against his stomach. "Can you talk to me? Are you okay?" 

"I’m fine.” Wade shifted his weight onto one arm and wrapped the other around Peter’s waist. “Can you stay here a minute?" 

"Of course I can.” Peter’s heart clenched when Wade’s trembling got worse. “I’m right here, right here. I’m not going anywhere." 

**********

Wade didn’t know how long he lay there clutching at Peter while the kid held him tight and rubbed up and down his back, but by the time he came back to himself, the last little bit of sunlight had faded from the windows and the living room was dark. 

”…Pete?“ 

"Hey, you back with me?” Peter’s fingers were resting at Wade’s pulse, but they slid back to tracing circles at his shoulder blades and down his back. “How are you doing?" 

"How long have I been–" 

"That doesn’t matter, I was here and everything was fine.” Peter interrupted. “Your muscles are locked up right now from laying like this though, so I’m going to help you sit up real slow alright? Nice and easy, slow and smooth. Gonna leave the blanket over your shoulders so there isn’t any shock to your system, no sudden cold or weightlessness or anything, okay? You with me?" 

"M'with you, Pete.” Wade couldn’t even be embarrassed over his apparent melt down when Peter was being so patient, and with a little help, he sat up all the way and swung his feet over the side of the table, then automatically reached out for Peter again, needing the contact to ground him.

“I’m right here.” Peter stepped right between Wade’s legs, right up into his space and tore the top off a water bottle, pressing it into Wade’s hands. “Small sips, work through it. I’m going to stay right here until you’re ready for me to move." 

"Kay.” Wade took little sips of water until the trembles had gone from his hands, and in between swallows he rested his forehead on Peter’s shoulder, shuddering under constant, reassuring touches over the blanket. “I’m really sorry about this." 

"Sorry about what?” Peter ran careful fingers up and over Wade’s bare scalp, working at his temples with light pressure. “Sorry about letting me hold you and get my hands on this smoking bod?" 

Wade laughed hoarsely. "Pete–" 

"Wade.” Peter swallowed back his own tears and shook his head. “I realize we full on ballerina jumped across about a thousand professional boundaries tonight but that’s fine. It’s _fine_. I don’t care. Friends who flirt, right? We can be friends who flirt and people who hold each other through this sort of thing. It’s fine." 

"I uh– I didn’t expect to have a fuckin’ break down cos you gave me a blanket.” Wade muttered. “All the therapy I’ve been to and no one suggested a goddamn _blanket_?" 

"Did you ever tell your therapist you had a hard time sleeping on anything but your side cos you feel too exposed?” Peter pointed out calmly. “Or that you pile on clothes because you don’t like feeling too naked? You had to get raging drunk just to get through being shirtless for our first appointment, Wade. It wasn’t a big leap to think maybe you could use something like this." 

"But why do you even know about them?”

"I lost my Uncle Ben when I was in high school.” Peter said softly. “We had a fight, I went out walking in the cold and Ben came after me. Wrong place, wrong time, and he ended up getting involved in an armed robbery and I couldn’t save him. For years after that I was cold. Just always _cold_. Felt like I was never going to be warm again after that night until I a weighted blanket to sleep under and I finally got better. When you told me how you didn’t feel safe anymore– I thought it would help you too." 

"Thank you." 

"It’s fine.” Peter budged even closer and put both arms around Wade’s shoulders. “You want me to stay?" 

"Feel like I might fall apart if you leave." 

"Then I’ll stay." 

********

"I didn’t want to turn over cos I was thinking about you touching me and got a little… _inflagrante delicto_.” Wade admitted some time later. “But uh, then the blanket happened and I freaked out and here we are." 

"Oh man, I was so close to getting to tap this and then went and ruined it with the blankie?” Peter teased lightly. “We’ll have to revisit that later, huh?" 

"Right.” Wade huffed. “Cos nothing says sexy like a man hiding beneath a blanket." 

"I dunno.” Peter slid his hands beneath the blanket and back onto Wade’s skin, smiling when Wade’s breath got choppy all over again. “I’ve always wanted to do it in a blanket fort." 

"Oh my god.” Wade’s hands tightened at Peter’s waist and they both sighed quietly. “Mr. Parker I think you’re the man of my dreams. You show up and get me naked, use all sorts of slidey lotions and then announce you want to do it in a blanket fort? I’ve died and gone to heaven." 

Peter took a chance and pressed a feather light kiss to Wade’s temple. "For the record, if you don’t call me after this I will consider you a complete fuck boy and never talk to you again." 

"That’s bull shit Pete, everyone calls fuck boys back, it’s the nature of the game." 

"Oh fuck you and your fuck boy rules. I changed my mind, don’t call me." 

“The hell I won’t.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**From Peter** : _I thought you were gonna call me and not be weird about the blanket thing_

 **From Wade** : _You called me a fuck boy and told me not to call._

 **From Peter** : _We both know I was lying._

**From Wade** : _Well it’s literally been fifteen minutes since you left, Pete. I figured I should give you some time to get settled in a cab or something._

 **From Peter:** _I’m just saying._

 **From Wade** : _I’M just saying, maybe take ten to twenty percent off the top there, eager beaver._

************

It was different after the blanket incident. 

Not different in a bad way– Wade quit having to take a few shots before stripping down for his massage, so that was nice. Peter wasn’t so tentative about touching him anymore and didn’t feel like he needed to check half a dozen times before moving on to a different part of Wade’s body. Their conversation before and after the appointments was flirty and easy but now it came with an underlying _intimacy_ that would have made Wade run panicking a few months ago. 

In fact, he usually ran whenever _any_ of his therapists or doctors tried to talk to him as if they were friends. He ran from the pity in their eyes and the disappointment whenever he had a setback and the way their smiles were always so false when they told him things would get better. 

There wasn’t a damn thing false about Peter. Not the strength in his fingers as he manipulated Wade’s body into healing, not his laugh when Wade made terrible jokes and certainly not the light in his eyes whenever Wade sat up at the end of an appointment and stretched. 

“You make me feel like a creep for checking you out.” Peter said one day as Wade rolled over, smoothing his palms down Wade’s chest and sighing at the flex of muscle. “But I feel like it’s not gonna stop me from looking anyway.” 

“Yeah well, the feeling’s mutual.” Wade blew out a pained breath and closed his eyes. “I shoulda requested an old ugly therapist, not someone whose ass is begging to be bent over the counter and thoroughly wrecked.”

“Charming.” Peter pinched at Wade’s side. “How on earth do you keep your admirers away with lines like that?” 

“I’ve got to beat them away with a bat.” Wade did another one of those hard breaths, and Peter paused to skate his fingers just feather light across Wade’s cheek. “Sorry, Pete. I popped a rib outta place the other night and waited too long to get it fixed. Screwed up my chest and upper back on that side when everything swelled.” 

“Why are you apologizing for popping a rib out of place?” Peter hummed and gentled the pressure, feeling around carefully for anything else still messed up. “Unless you were leaping across building tops like a dumb ass super hero, there’s nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes popped ribs just happen and yeah, if you don’t get them taken care of right away they sorta screw everything else up.” 

“Just don’t wanna make your job any more difficult.” Wade grunted and Peter shook his head, “Nah babe, not making anything more difficult. What else did you do this week besides ruin your ribs?” 

“…did you just call me babe?” Wade asked incredulously and Peter was quick to deny, “Absolutely not. Why the hell would I call you babe? That would be super weird and _super_ unprofessional." 

Wade huffed a laugh and Peter prompted, "What else did you do this week?" 

“This might be surprising, but I don’t have a super active social life. One of my doctors says I probably have a mild case of agoraphobia, I call it a mild case of not wanting to be stared at whenever I go anywhere.” Wade went still when Peter reached for the weighted blanket and lay it over his legs. “Thank you.” 

“Just cos you’re a fuckin’ hermit doesn’t mean you didn’t do anything.” Peter ignored the sigh of relief over the blanket and kept working. “Plus this is New York. No one wants to look at any one, haven’t you ever rode the subway? New Yorkers have made avoiding eye contact and conversation an Olympic Sport. One time I saw somebody carry a damn snake onto the subway and literally no one looked at all. No one is staring at you." 

"That’s not what it feels like.” Wade said quietly and Peter nodded, his touch gentling again. “By the way, it’s a point of personal pride that I’ve never ridden the subway.”

“And this is why we want to eat rich people.” Peter snorted. “A point of personal pride– shut up with that." 

Wade smiled and Peter went back to work. "Anyway. There’s a whole new world out there on the internet. I know you’re old–" 

"I’m thirty two, Pete." 

”–I know you’re old, but try getting online sometime.“ Peter continued. "Dating sites, science forums, you can get rich selling stuff through about a billion websites, you can get YouTube famous for literally nothing… for all, I know you could have a very active social life." 

“You know damn well I’m not doing any of that.” Wade said dryly. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“Well-ll-ll-” Peter dragged out the word. “ _We_ could do something sometime. Dinner and a movie? Lunch and a matinee? Netflix and Chill? What sounds fun to you?" 

“Are you asking me out on a date while I’m naked and vulnerable, Pete?” 

“You’re not all the way naked.” Peter tugged at the weighted blanket. “And I feel like I made it pretty clear the first time around that I’m way more than okay with taking you out sometime.” he moved the cover further up Wade’s chest as he worked back towards his shoulders. “And if you wanna get out of the house and do something fun… at least you know I’m not weird, right? All the awkwardness of a first date won’t be there since we’ve already crossed a bunch of boundaries.” 

“Well I dunno about–”

"I already know where you live.” Peter interrupted. “I know what your favorite music is, what your job used to be, how you got hurt and how it affects your daily life. I know you’re allergic to both cats and dogs but you’re willing to suffer for dogs. You don’t eat avocado’s but you like the lotion, you think psychiatrists are quacks but physical therapists are doing the Lord’s work. You’d never admit that you blame the military for what happened, but you _do_ wish you hadn’t been so swayed by talk of adventure and patriotism and maybe you could have avoided all this." 

"Wait, does this mean you listen when I ramble all the time?” Wade sounded positively horrified. “How dare you!" 

"Ah yes, how dare I listen when my friend talks about things he cares about.” Peter flicked Wade in the ear. “The audacity. Plus you know, while we’re on the topic of how well I know you, I get you naked and oiled up twice a week Wade. I feel like that’s enough to break the ice, don’t you?" 

Wade’s smile slid into a grin and Peter encouraged, "I’m just saying. Maybe think about letting me take you on a date." 

“I uh–” Wade shifted on the table and cleared his throat, hiding his face beneath his free arm as he admitted, “Pete, that’s about all I think about.” 

“Yeah?” Peter’s fingers slowed at Wade’s neck. “You think about dating me?” 

“Oh no, I meant the oiled up and naked thing.” Wade deadpanned. “Yes Pete, I think about dating you all the time.” 

“So why are we still seeing each other only in a professional capacity?” Peter uncapped the lavender oil and smoothed some into Wade’s temples. “If I wanna date you and you wanna date me why am I clinging to my self control and not playing hide the pickle–” 

Wade burst into such loud laughter that the massage table shook beneath him, the weighted blankets slipping down his waist again. “What the fuck, you are the most inappropriate massage therapist ever!” 

“Categorically untrue.” Peter was laughing too and when Wade finally opened his eyes, Peter scrunched his nose and winked. “The blanket is still covering your unmentionables so I can’t be the _most_ inappropriate yet, right?” 

“Right.” Wade let a few more chuckles loose, then reached for Peter’s hand and lay it over his heart, sobering up enough to ask, “Tell me for real though, Pete. You aren’t just asking me out or teasing me about this shit cos you feel bad for me right? I mean, I can handle knowing you’re like this with everyone and that’s why you get such great reviews, but I don’t think I can handle knowing you’re being this ridiculous out of pity or something.” 

“Wade.” Peter’s eyes softened and he let most of his weight settle onto Wade’s chest as he leaned over and brushed their lips together in as light a kiss as possible. “First of all, I take high offense to you thinking I do this with everyone. I am definitely not _that_ kind of massage therapist." 

And then more seriously, "What’s it going to take to convince you that I really like you? That I’m not joking? I know you look in the mirror and see a mess but I feel like we established I don’t care about that. And yeah, things got sort of intense sort of quick, but I’m okay with it, if you are.” 

“…yeah?” 

“Well I mean–” Peter chewed at his bottom lip for a minute, a light blush highlighting his cheeks. “How often do you meet someone that takes your breath away, makes you laugh _and_ makes you comfortable pretty much right away? Because that never happens for me. And it happened right away with you.” 

“What?” Wade jerked upright and when the table rocked alarmingly, he swung his feet over the side for balance and frowned at Peter. “Are you serious?” 

“You didn’t feel it?” Peter raised his eyebrows, the blush getting darker. “I know I made an idiot out of myself that first meeting, staring like that. But seriously, Wade. How often do you meet someone you feel like you just have to know? That never happens with me, but it happened with you…so….” 

“So what, if I wasn’t paying you to come and work on me–” Wade spread his hands in confusion. “–you’d be hanging outside my apartment stalking me?” 

“When you say it like that it sounds creepy.” Peter retorted, and moved up closer to Wade when he got a smile in return. “No, I wouldn’t have been weird about it. But I would have been bummed to miss out, that’s for sure.” 

“I would have been bummed to miss out on you too.” Wade placed careful hands at Peter’s waist and when the gorgeous brunette murmured something encouraging and leaned closer, he wrapped both arms around the trim body and put his head in Peter’s shoulder. This close to Peter’s relative flawlessness, his ravaged skin looked even worse and it took all of Wade’s rapidly flagging courage to mutter, “So can I see you tomorrow? Dinner?” 

“Does this mean you’re done seeing me tonight?” Peter asked faux sadly. “Because I feel like I could find an excuse to stay longer really quickly.” 

“I uh– I need some time to prepare?” Wade said a little helplessly. “It’s been a while for me and I wasn’t ever any good at the dating part, I was always better at what came after.”

“Mmm, you sure know how to sweet talk a guy.” Peter teased. “How did you ever get to the _after_ if you were so awful at dating?” 

“I used to be gorgeous and funny and have a cool job.” Wade pointed out. “ _Anybody_ will sleep with you when you got that going on. Now I’m just funny and the dating market has narrowed considerably.”

“I feel like any comedian in the world will tell you that being funny can be more than enough.” Peter coaxed Wade’s head up and then brought their mouths together in a slow kiss that made Wade’s head spin. “I guess you being gorgeous is just a bonus.” 

Wade audibly gulped. “So um. Tomorrow? Dinner and– maybe you pick out the movie?” 

“It’s a date.” Peter eased back from between Wade’s legs. “I’ll give you a minute to get dressed and then say goodbye okay?” 

“Okay.” Wade waited until Peter had disappeared down the hall to the bathroom before dropping his face into his hands. “Okay. A date. I can do this.” 

_“…can I do this?”_


	5. Chapter 5

_Generic TW: Wade has a breakdown/panic attack_

*******************

It wasn’t that Wade was nervous about going on a date. 

He might not be great at _dating_ when it meant open communication and remembering important dates and learning to live with peoples quirks,but he was pretty awesome at _first_ dates. 

Back before– before– Wade went on a first date at least once a week. He had specific First Date outfits, go to First Date restaurants, a memorized list of First Date appropriate small talk topics, and the perfect First Date bottle of wine to keep things moving the right ~~naked~~ direction. 

Great first dates led to first date sex, and Wade was just _swell_ at that particular activity.

So no, he wasn’t nervous about going on a date. 

But he was bent over the toilet sick to his stomach, unable to eat and practically shaking with nerves over going on a date with _Peter_. 

“I should cancel.” Wade told himself at least a hundred times between saying goodbye to Peter Tuesday night and getting ready to text- confirm the date Wednesday afternoon. “I should just cancel, this is insane." 

He already had the reservation at a new place down the way, Wade had picked out a dark blue long sleeve turtleneck that both hugged all his muscles and covered as much skin as possible, and his First Date jeans were dry cleaned and ready to go. 

"I should cancel.” he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror and grimacing over the scars and rough skin. “Peter does not want to be seen out in public with this, this is— I am–" 

In a moment of sheer panic, Wade searched online for makeup that would cover scars, for a foundation that would even out his rough skin without looking too caked on, for tutorials on applying fake eyebrows so maybe he wouldn’t look so weird. He’d been so much _prettier_ the last time he’d gone out on a date and now he was basically approaching hideous and–

 _Peter doesn’t care_ , he reminded himself, and then just as quickly, _but what if he does?_

Peter had _said_ he didn’t care, but that was in the privacy of Wade’s home where no one else saw them. Peter had _said_ he didn’t care, but he hadn’t seen Wade have a full on break down in public because some little kid pointed and laughed. Peter had _said_ he didn’t care, but he wasn’t there for the nights Wade couldn’t even lie down because everything hurt so he spent the night pacing and staring out the window. Peter had _said_ he didn’t care but he wasn’t there for the nightmares and the mood swings–

–Peter had said he didn’t care but he only saw Wade twice a week and it would be different when he realized Wade couldn’t always joke, that he wasn’t always patient and that this mess was Wade’s reality every single second of every single day. 

Peter had said he didn’t care but when it came right down to it, eventually the understanding in those beautiful eyes would turn to pity and then frustration and then _boredom_ and then Peter would move on. 

_Just like everyone else._

Despair swamped Wade and nearly bowled him over, his knees gave out and he crumpled onto the couch, eyes closed tight against an unexpected panic attack, tears trickling down his cheek. 

_I can’t do this._

Wade didn’t know how long he sat there tipping on the edge of a breakdown, but when his phone chimed, it was only half an hour until their date and Peter was texting him, so Wade wiped the tears away and squinted at the screen. 

**From Peter** : _Ho ho holy crap the weather outside is frightful._

**From Wade** : _Yeah we should cancel. This was a bad idea._

The text was sent before Wade even thought it through, his fingers flying over the keyboard to blurt out the same words that had been circling his mind for the last eighteen hours. 

**From Peter:** _Wait, what?_

**From Peter** : _You want to cancel because it’s raining?_

 **From Peter** : _But my umbrella is ever so cute plus I bought galoshes. Do you know weird it felt to ask for galoshes at the store? I was instantly a little child from the early 1900s wanting to stomp in puddles_

 **From Peter** : _or you know, something like that_

 **From Peter** : _You want to cancel because of the RAIN?_

Wade stared down at his phone for a long time before finally gathering his courage and hitting _call_ , chewing at his lip until it bled as he waited for Peter to pick up. 

"Wade.” Peter didn’t sound angry or disappointed, he just sounded… curious. “What’s going on?" 

"I can’t do this.” Wade knew he sounded panicked but he didn’t have the strength to hide it. “I just– I just can’t." 

"That’s alright, I really wasn’t up to going out to eat, I always wear a too tight tshirt and then end up with a food baby belly.” Peter joked. “You want to just order in or–" 

"No no no, I _can’t_ , Pete.” the words muffled behind Wade’s palms as he hid his face in his hands and tried to tell himself to _breathe_. “This isn’t working, I can’t do it." 

”…okay… Um Wade–“ 

"Look, you’re a cute kid.” Wade said in a rush. “And hiring you as a massage therapist was a great idea, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. This is crazy." 

"What’s crazy about it?” Peter whispered. “I thought we were doing alright?" 

"I’m not your project, Pete.” The words came harsher than Wade intended and he heard Peter suck in a harsh breath on the other end. “You can’t fix me with a few massages and a weighted blanket and a little bit of flirting. I know it seems like we’ve made all this great progress, but the truth is, I’m still as messed up as I ever was, I just hurt a little less sometimes. And yeah, you make me laugh and the flirting is nice but it’s like, two hours out of an impossibly shitty existence and I can’t do it anymore." 

"Wade–" 

"I’ve been sick to my stomach all day.” Wade didn’t really mean to admit that, but he’d gone and said it and couldn’t take it back now. “Throwing up all day stressing out about going out in public, about having to pretend I’m normal to get through dinner, fucking _panicking_ about you wanting a kiss or something, or _worse_ isme thinking you’d want a kiss and you pulling away– I can’t do it, Pete. This is tearing me up, I’m not ready." 

"I never thought of you as a project–" 

"No?” Wade bit out, self disgust turning toxic in his chest and spilling into his words. “You expect me to honestly believe you saw a fucked up war vet with screwed up skin and warped muscles and a clear case of PTSD and decided _that’s_ who you want to be with? Or is it because I give you so much extra money after we’re done it was worth dealing with my shit because the money was good?” 

Peter cursed out loud and Wade bit at his tongue until it bled. "Shit. Pete, I didn’t mean it like that. Not– not– _fuck_ see? This is what I mean. I’m messed up and I can’t do this. I can’t. I won’t.” 

"Okay.” Peter cleared his throat, then cleared it again, obviously trying to keep his voice level. “I get it. Definitely super unprofessional of me to try and date someone I’m trying to help, you’re right. Definitely seems like you’re just a project and no one wants to feel like that. You’re doing the right thing, pulling the plug before this turned into anything else." 

"I–” Wade clenched his fists and tried not to scream.. “Yeah. That’s right." 

"That’s right.” Peter repeated quietly, and then in a more formal tone. “I um– well for professional reasons, I think I’m going to have to refer you to one of my colleagues for any future appointments." 

"Sounds about right.” Wade said dully, the flash of anger fading until nothing was left but a bitter aftertaste. He’d gone and ruined everything just because he couldn’t keep his shit together long enough for one damn date. _What else is knew?_ “I’d appreciate the referral." 

"It’s no problem, I’m happy to help.” Peter said in that same stiff way, and then– “….bye Wade." 

"Bye Pete." 

The phone went dark and Wade threw it across the room, watched it shatter against the wall. 

Outside in the hall, Peter put the flowers, the movie, and the Chinese take out he’d brought along in case Wade wasn’t feeling up to going out down at the door, and walked back to the elevator with tears in his eyes. 

********************

**Chapter Notes:**

_Uh yeah, tbh I 100% forgot about the angst in this fic. I wrote it so long ago on my KoFi that I legit forgot about this part. Oh well! Angst Surprise!_


	6. Chapter 6

“So what, he flaked out on your date?” Gwen took a loud swallow from her over sized coffee thermos and smacked her lips. “Why are you so bent out of shape, you’ve never had someone cancel a date before?” 

“No.” Peter said shortly. “I’ve never had someone cancel a date before. People like dating me, they _always_ show up.” 

“Mmm. Bite me.” Gwen retorted. “Well, welcome to the club of rejection, it happens to all of us, even blonde haired stunners like myself.” 

“Your hair is pink right now.” Peter pointed out and Gwen replied, “Which is the only reason why my _own_ date got canceled last week.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you showed up with a stack of flyers to hand out about the evils of Hammer Tech?” 

“I might have come on a little strong.” the pretty girl agreed. “I suppose protesting mega corporations isn’t everybody’s idea of a good time.” 

“No, probably not.” Peter slumped into his chair and propped his feet up onto the table. “What am I going to do, Gwen?” 

“Oh my god, you’re really upset about this!” Gwen’s eyes widened in surprise. “Pete! I thought you were just cranky cos you didn’t get laid! You really like this guy, don’t you?” 

“I told you that.” 

“Well yeah, but you like everyone.” she said flatly. “Plus, he’s a client so when you said you liked him and that his muscles made you cream a little---” 

“GWEN!” 

“--I assumed you were just talking from a professionally horny standpoint, not from a real interest standpoint!” she cried. “I mean, damn Pete! You can’t date clients! If word gets out that you’re _that_ kinda massage therapist, I dunno if you’ll lose your current clients or gain a whole bunch of very sketchy new ones, but either way? You definitely crossed a line.” 

“I know.” he muttered. “Couldn’t help myself.” 

“I’m pretty sure you _could_ have helped yourself.” She countered. “All you had to do was be professional, Pete. Work with the guy, take his money and leave again. How difficult is that? You could have definitely _not_ tried to get in his pants.” 

“Gwen--” 

“No, listen.” Gwen put her coffee down and pinned Peter with a look. “I heard what you said before about how you didn’t expect the attraction and how it’s so easy to be with him and how you guys sorta fell into each other and how you text all the time and he makes you laugh and all that. But tell me something. Have you stopped and thought for one second how hard this is on _him_?” 

“I--” 

“You tell me how easy it is for you and that’s why you want to pursue it.” She interrupted. “But your shocking lack of professionalism aside, have you even considered how difficult this is for Wade. Just once?” 

“Um.” Peter hesitated. “...no? He said he felt it too so I thought it was okay.” 

“You told me Wade has to live up high because traffic noise gives him panic attacks.” Gwen recounted and Peter’s face fell. “That he had to get raging drunk just to get through the first massage and then had an actual breakdown when you gave him that weighted blanket. Does that sound like a person who could dress up and stroll downtown for a date with you? Just because Wade's comfortable in his own space and over text messages doesn’t mean he can do it all outside, you know.” 

“I didn’t think about that.” 

“For all you know, he’s NOT comfortable in his own space.” she continued. “He could be pretending so it’s not weird for you. Do you know what he does right after you leave? Does he have to take a shower, have to meditate or medi _cate_? Is he basically paralyzed for a few hours until his anxiety settles down?” 

“...things are tough with Flash.” Peter realized. “That’s why you’re so in tune to everything right now.” 

Gwen nodded miserably, her jaw clenching, and Peter whispered, “I should stop by and see him.” 

“Flash doesn’t want you to stop by and see him.” She denied. “He doesn't even want _me_ to come by. My fiancee came home from over deployment and can’t even be in the same room as me most days because I remind him of how good things used to be and how different it all is now. Remember how we were going to get married when he came home? The first time I tried to kiss him hello, Flash panicked and didn’t come out of his room for like, three days.” 

“I remember.” Peter’s lips pulled down into a frown. Flash had been so hoo-rah about going and being a hero and now he was nothing like he’d used to be, shutting out the love of his life Gwen, his oldest friends Harry and MJ and even Peter, who had been his roommate through all four years of boarding school and their first year of college. “I-- I remember.” 

“So you know what I did?” Gwen shrugged as if it still didn’t break her heart. “I decided to be Flash's _friend_ because that's the only way I’m able to be part of his life. I try to take on disgusting billionaires, try to date to fend off the loneliness but end up scaring them away because let’s face it, I’m intense, and then I spend as much time with Flash as I can. Sometimes that means we talk, sometimes that means I sit clear on the other side of the couch and watch him watch a movie. I'm his friend." 

“You’re trying to tell me I need to be content with being Wade’s friend." Peter blew out a deep breath. "Like if I want to stay a part of his life, I have to respect the boundaries he has, even if they are boundaries that seem like they come out of no where." 

“Don’t make everything about you, Pete, I’m trying to tell you that if I don’t get laid soon I’ll actually die.” Gwen retorted and smacked Peter’s feet off the table. “But also yeah, if you want to be around Wade, you’re going to have to settle for friends. Obviously you both thought Wade was ready for more, and obviously he isn't. Back off, bud. Be his friend or leave him alone. Quit complaining about your hurt feelings and try to realize Wade probably hates himself right now for what he considers a failure. Not going on a date with you? He probably thinks its a failure. Stop bitching and have some compassion.” 

“I hate your advice.” Peter reached over and took Gwen’s hand, smiling when she squeezed at it. “But I'm pretty sure I needed to hear it, so thank you. And I’m sorry about Flash. I’m sorry that the reason you know all this is cos you’re living through it.” 

“I'm sorry about Flash too.” Gwen cleared her throat and blinked away a few tears. “And this therapy session will cost you one bagel and another cup of coffee, so get to it. I don’t hand out all this advice for free, you know.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Peter pulled out his wallet and headed towards the front of the coffee shop. “Love you, Gwen.” 

“Yeah.” she said absentmindedly, going right back to her book. “I'm real swell." 

***************

***************

_Benefits of group therapy._ Wade typed into the search bar on his computer. _Local group therapy for veterans. How long until therapy starts working? How long after trauma is therapy useless?_

He took a gulp of a drink that was way more whiskey than it was Coke and searched, _What qualifies as trauma? How long will I have panic attacks?_

And then with his breath catching and vision blurring with tears: _How long before I feel normal again? Do people with PTSD ever date again?_

His phone buzzed and Wade picked it up without thinking, swiped the screen without looking, sure it was going to be a reminder of meds or a confirmation text from tomorrow’s physical therapy appointment. 

**From Peter** : _I’m not going anywhere, Wade. I’m not going to bother you, but if you need me, I’m here and if you want to talk or need some of my Grade A humour to distract you for a minute, I’m here for that too._

**From Peter:** _I’ll let you make the first move though, I don’t want to intrude or push like… boundaries? I don’t expect anything from you, but know that I’ll be happy to hear from you all the same._

Wade blinked down at the message, then up at the current screen on his computer, scrolling down until he found an article he’d only skimmed earlier: _How to be there for someone with PTSD_. Tip one was to reassure the person that you were there but didn’t expect anything, that you would respect their boundaries and needs but also would grant them their distance. 

Peter had obviously read a similar article or pamphlet and even though the text read a little stiff, it was clear Peter was _trying_ and it made Wade’s heart hurt in a very real way that even after everything, Peter was still trying. 

He didn’t text Peter back though. 

Instead Wade put his phone away and went back to looking up group therapy locations and reading anonymous reviews about different therapists. 

He’d gone to therapy after his injury, he’d even gone to a psychiatrist, he’d gone to a hypnotist for the nightmares and about every other ‘- _ist_ ’ out there but it apparently wasn’t working, he apparently needed something _more_ because living like this wasn’t working anymore. 

There was a group specifically for injured veterans, former soldiers whose entire lives had been changed by a moment overseas, and Wade clicked through that website to until he found a time and a location and the suggestion that he “ _click the attending box partly so Sam knows how many cupcakes to bring, partly to set it as a personal goal for yourself!_ ” 

“I’m doing this for the cupcakes.” Wade muttered as he checked the box. “Only for the cupcakes.” 

….and with one more glance at his phone, “And maybe for Pete.” 


	7. Chapter 7

The first few weeks after the cancelled date with Wade, Peter checked his phone at least once every ten minutes out of both hope and habit and every time it was only Gwen texting some bullshit or Harry demanding he come over and watch something, or even occasionally Flash who was working on reaching out to people again. 

It was never _Wade_ though, and it took most of Peter’s self control to not text over and over and try to establish some sort of conversation, some sort of connection, some sort of _anything_ resembling the camaraderie they had found and lost so unexpectedly. 

The next few weeks were filled with appointment after appointment, Peter filling his book full in an effort to distract himself from how badly he missed Wade. He worked double shifts for the Bugle, booked massage appointments as early as seven am and as late as ten pm and the few minutes he had of downtime were spent sleeping. 

“I said be his friend, not become a hermit!” Gwen smacked Peter with a magazine before flopping onto his couch and shoving her feet into his lap. “Foot rub please, I spent eighteen hours marching outside Hammer Tech yesterday and my feet are killing me.” 

“What did Hammer Tech do this time?” Peter sent off a confirmation email for an appointment later that week and began rubbing at Gwen’s feet. “And holy crap, eighteen hours? Gwen–” 

“Flash had a bad day.” Gwen’s blue eyes dimmed in sadness. “Threw something at me when I let myself into the apartment and then later called me crying from the hospital. He checked himself in because he doesn’t think he’s okay and he won’t let me come see him. So eighteen hours at a protest was about the only thing I could handle.” 

“Sorry, honey.” Peter murmured. “I get it.” 

“Yeah, except you’re being smart about dealing with your broken heart.” Gwen scoffed. “You’re actually making money while distracting yourself. I’m walking through my shoes and probably giving myself knee problems.” 

“You’re making a difference, I’m saving for a trip to the Caribbean.” Peter shrugged. “It’s sort of the same thing, right?” 

“It’s not the same thing at all.” Gwen snapped her magazine open and sighed. “So no word from your Special Forces Wonder Boy?” 

“Nothing.” Peter shot a look at his phone. “You think I did the right thing, texting him?” 

“I think it’s too late to care either way.” she answered promptly. “You sent it, it’s done. He will either text you or he won’t. Whether it was the right thing or not, you won’t know until he answers, and even then? Just because he answers doesn’t mean it was the right thing. You just don’t know, Pete and I don’t know either.” 

And then in a softer tone than Peter had ever heard, “Don’t think I know much about anything these days.” 

“Well you know you want to take down Hammer Tech.” Peter comforted and Gwen switched gears immediately, pumping her first into the air and exclaiming, “I think I’m getting close to being slapped with a restraining order! Fun stuff, right?” 

“Right.” Peter shook his head with an exasperated grin, and then stole one more look at his dark phone. “Whatever you say, Gwen.” 

***************

***************

“So I got asked out on a date a couple months ago.” Wade stared down at his clasped hands and forced the words out slow and steady. “Actually, I should back up. I ended up um… making friends with someone over the last few months. He kept joking about asking me out and then he finally did and I sort of uh–” 

He stopped, swallowed, and someone in the group murmured something encouraging. “I uh– well I freaked out. Worked myself into a panic attack and said some pretty stupid things about not wanting to be– to be his _project_ –” a ripple of understanding from everyone gathered. “–and that was that.” 

“Alright.” Sam Wilson, former paratrooper, veteran, certified counselor and probably one of the best people Wade had ever met, clicked his pen a few times as he looked down at his notes. “So when you say _that was tha_ t, what do you mean? Did you tell him not to call anymore? Did you tell him to leave you alone? Or did he get mad and walk away?” 

It took a moment, but Wade answered, “He didn’t get mad. He just left.” 

“Sometimes that’s worse.” a woman spoke up from Wade’s left, the skirt of her dress pulled all the way to the floor to hide her prosthesis. “Sometimes when they just leave instead of arguing to keep you, it feels worse.” 

“Okay, but I think we can all agree that it’s better to have our boundaries respected and left alone, than trod over in a well meaning but usually terrible attempt to make us comfortable, right?” Sam said calmly. “Wade, would you have rather your friend have stayed and tried to argue with you?” 

“…no…” Wade hesitated. “No, I think it would have made everything worse. I was basically ready to hyperventilate and I guess him being calm– I can’t say it helped, but it’s probably better that he left. I don’t respond real well to people pushing my comfort levels.“

“I remember.” Sam smiled a little, but didn’t bring up how Wade had freaked out at the first group therapy a month ago and snapped a chair over his knee before storming out. “So how do you feel about the cancelled date now that it’s been a few weeks?” 

“…empty.” Wade dropped his head again, and the guy sitting next to him put a friendly, if not cautious hand on his shoulder. “I just feel empty. Not relieved the pressure is gone, not breathing easier cos I don’t have to think about being presentable in public or keeping my shit together long enough for a date.” 

He waited a beat and then added in a very small voice, “I just feel empty. Like I missed the one and only chance I’m gonna get to find love.” 

“I hear that.” Someone else spoke up and it made Wade feel less on the spot to know he wasn’t the only one going through this. “It’s been months since I got asked out, and last time it happened, I turned them down and they were real nice about, promised to call and ask again, but then they never did. They never tried to connect with me again. At the time I was relieved, but now it just feels like that was my one shot to be normal again and I blew it. Lost my chance.”

“Here’s the thing about normal.” Sam cleared his throat and gentled his tone. “This _is_ normal, guys. Me not being able to fly anymore after losing Riley, that’s normal. Tasha having an issue with the dark? Normal. Wade, your days of modeling buck ass naked for the annual edition of Special Forces Uncovered are _over_ –” Wade and another ex Special Forces guy managed a laugh and Sam grinned. 

“– those days are gone and now your new normal includes wearing specific materials that don’t hurt your skin, and that’s fine. What we all have going on right now? This is _normal_. The past is the past, this is now and this is _normal_ and it’s gonna be hard to move forward if we’re stuck thinking about what used to be.” 

“There are some people who look at us and see our trauma and see a fix-it, a project.” Sam said truthfully. “And there will be others who will realize that our normal is a lot more difficult than their normal and not want to deal with it. But not everyone will be like that. Someone will think our normal is perfectly fine, perfectly doable and those are the people we should hold on to.” 

Group therapy let out close to an hour later and Sam stopped Wade before he left, asking, “You seem like you’re doing a lot better Wade, how’s things outside of here?” 

“Bout the same.” Wade put his beanie on and slid into gloves, trying to cover as much skin as possible for the dozen or so blocks he had to walk to his place. “I’m getting out to see a massage therapist now instead of having one come to my house, I’m walking to and from therapy instead of hiding in a cab– same old, same old.” 

“And the friend who asked you out?” Sam prompted. “Do you still talk to him? Didn’t want to ask in group in case it was too emotional but I wanted to check anyway.” 

“I don’t talk to him.” Wade blew out a deep breath. “I uh– I didn’t delete his number but he might have deleted mine, and I think I’d actually lose my mind if I texted him and got one of those stupid ‘new phone, who dis’ texts back.” 

“Alright, first of all, we’re all adults here and I think we stopped texting that bullshit after college.” Sam joked and Wade smiled a little. “Second of all, just based on what you’ve told me about the guy, I highly doubt he’s lost your number. I think you’ve made some great steps towards personal healing lately, and if you think you can handle it, a little closure on that whole deal might not be the worst.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Wade zipped his coat clear up to his neck. “Thanks Sam.” 

“Take it easy, Wade.” 

****************

 **From Wade** : _Heya Pete, it’s Wade._

 **From Wade** : _Could I see you on Tuesday?_

 **From Peter** : _YES_

 **From Peter** : _I mean, yes. Sure. Absolutely. Is this a purely professional thing?_

 **From Wade** : _I was hoping it could be more of a friends thing._

 **From Peter** : _I can’t wait._


	8. Chapter 8

“I’m surprised you wanted to meet here.” Peter glanced around the coffee shop and then slid into the chair across from Wade. “Not that this isn’t a nice place, it’s just um–" 

”–just that I usually don’t take my fucked up face out into pubic places?“ Wade finished, and when Peter’s eyes opened wide in horror, Wade waved him off. "Don’t, Pete. Don’t stress out about it. I know that’s not what you were going to say. It’s my new thing, cutting people off with something self deprecating to take the awkwardness out of the minute. It’s fine." 

"I was definitely not going to say something about your face.” Peter finished slowly. “I was uh– I was going more for the ’ _wow Wade, I didn’t think hippies were your people_ ’." 

Wade chuckled and Peter relaxed a little more. "Yeah, this is a little granola crunching and Birkenstock wearing for my usual taste. Close to home though, and I’m too lazy to walk much further, so here we go." 

"You’re walking places now?” Peter smiled when a waitress put down a pot of coffee. “Since when?" 

"Group therapy.” Wade said shortly. “One of the guys said it helped to walk places because they could focus on the number of steps instead of who may or may not be watching them, and then once they made it about the halfway point, why bother turning around, right?" 

"Group therapy.” Peter repeated, obviously trying to find the right way to respond to that information. “So um-" 

"I didn’t ask to see you cos I wanted to talk about therapy.” Wade interrupted. “Or about how I’m making an effort to better myself or anything like that." 

"Then why’d you want to see me?” Peter poured a cup but didn’t take a sip, just cradled the warm cup in his palms instead. “I can’t imagine it’s to ask me out on a date." 

"No.” Wade huffed a laugh. “Uh no. That’s not it. But I did want to see if maybe you wanted to go to a movie or something, just as friends." 

” _Friends_.“ 

"Something’s here, Pete.” Wade drummed his fingers on the table, fidgeted at his jacket, scratched at the drawn on eyebrows. “There’s something between you and I and even though it’s pretty fucking obvious I might never be ready for actually dating, I don’t want to lose you completely. So. Friends?" 

Peter was quiet and Wade cleared his throat to add, "It’s fine if you say no. I get it. It was a weird start because I was basically paying you to hang out with me, then it got worse when I had my breakdown and then it got weirder when I panicked about the date and stopped talking to you for a couple months and–" 

He stopped when he realized Peter wasn’t even listening. "Pete? What are you doing?" 

"Hm?” Peter looked up from his phone. “Sorry, what?" 

"You’re not listening.” Wade tried and failed to keep the shock and hurt from his voice. “Well shit Pete, I knew I made shit weird but I thought I deserved a conversation without the phone out, huh?" 

"Oh!” Peter brightened into a smile and turned his phone around for Wade to see the screen. “The theater down the street as an all day marathon of old school horror films since it’s Halloween next week. Sound good? They have that pizza joint inside and we could just eat pizza and drink beer and watch terrible horror films all day." 

Wade _blinked_ at him and Peter clarified, "I was listening Wade. There’s something between and it might not ever be dating but I don’t want to lose you either. So let’s get some pizza and beer, talk through old movies and figure out when we’re going to do it again." 

"Just like that?” Wade took a sip of his coffee so it wouldn’t be quite as obvious how badly his hands were shaking. “You don’t have any questions for me? Or need to say anything?" 

"How’s your new massage therapist?” Peter pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the table, holding out his hand to help Wade up. “Do you like them?" 

"They are 100% professional and very ugly.” Wade confirmed. “Super boring and never lets their hands stray anywhere close to inappropriate." 

"Wow, they sound _terrible_." 

"The worst.” Wade confirmed and when Peter laughed out loud, something _wonderful_ loosened in his chest. “It’s good to see you again Pete." 

"Mm-hmm.” Peter pushed Wade down the street towards the theater. “You buy pizza and I’ll buy beer?" 

"Sounds good." 

****************

****************

First it was movies, Peter and Wade taking advantage of all the Halloween hoopla to watch special showings of classic horror films. They laughed at the terrible effects and cackled at the cheesy lines and got into arguments about whether or not the always blond girl was only hired for the size of her rack or if there had _actually_ been a screaming audition. 

"There might have been some screaming but it probably wasn’t for the movie.” Wade decided. “I feel like her audition took place on a _couch_ , ya feel me?" 

"Oh ye of little faith.” Peter snorted. “She’s obviously talented and was definitely cast for her–” the woman on screen stumbled for no apparent reason and fell into a strategically placed puddle, soaking her white t-shirt clear through. “– you know what? Comment withdrawn." 

The movies were fun, and from there they moved on to grabbing lunch together a couple times a week. Wade got more comfortable using light make up to cover the worst of his scars, he manged to find eyelashes that didn’t made him look ridiculous and his drawn on eyebrows no longer rubbed off if he wore a beanie, so he headed down towards the Daily Bugle on Tuesdays and Thursdays to meet Peter at a sandwich shop and talk about their days. 

"J Jonah Jameson is without a doubt the crankiest guy in the world.” Peter said around a mouthful of meatball sub. “His wife came in and gave him a kiss and he complained about how her chap stick tasted afterwards. He has a beautiful wife who visits him at work just to give him a kiss and he complains about her chap stick? That guy would piss off the Pope, I swear." 

"I think the doorman in my building is sleeping with the receptionist.” Wade said the next time around, picking at his Italian sub with a suspicious expression. “And I don’t mean _dating_. I mean I went to take the stairs, heard noises I’ve only heard on the Discovery channel–” Peter snorted soda up his nose when he cracked up laughing and Wade grinned. “–so I took the elevator and lo and behold, no one was at the desk or the door. ”

“Oooh sexy.” Peter leaned over and snagged one of Wade’s fries. “But I got one better. Gwen was protesting at Hammer Tech the other day…

*********

The only natural progression from lunch was dinner but Peter came towards Wade side of town for that so they could try a new Thai place one week and then something Greek another and repeat their favorite taco stand at least six times in between. 

Sometimes they met at Wade’s apartment and walked together, other times they just met at the restaurant and snagged a table by the window. Sometimes the conversation stayed to light topics, other times Wade would open up about what they were talking about in therapy, or Peter would talk about Gwen and Flash and things would get serious and thoughtful and Peter always had to stop himself from reaching out and trying to hold Wade’s hand. 

Things were bound to change at some point, they were bound to slip over that line from _just friends_ and give in to the attraction still simmering beneath the surface and it was one night at their favorite taco stand that it finally happened. 

"If this kills me, I’m coming back to haunt you.” Peter warned as Wade handed him a spicy chicken taco. “I swear." 

"Quit being such a puss and just eat it.” Wade said impatiently. “It’s spicy chicken Pete, quit staring at it like I’m serving you salted dog or something." 

It might have been the over whelming spice, it might have been Wade’s _salted dog_ comment, but either way, Peter took a bite of the taco and promptly bent over trying to cough his lungs up, gasping for air and chucking the taco to the side so he could hold onto the cart and not collapse. 

"Ignore him.” Wade told the vendor. “He’s a drama queen. Your food is delicious. C'mon Pete, you’re embarrassing me in front of the taco guy, pull it together." 

"I’m dying.” Peter wheezed, clutching at Wade dramatically until the big solder finally laughed and hauled him up, pounding at his back good naturedly. “Wade, save me! Save me!" 

Peter finally got his breath back, finally got over the eye watering seasoning and managed to breathe without wanting to choke and straightened up to his full height, wiping at his eyes and scolding, "Do not hand me something new to eat and then hint that it may or may not be dog meat!" 

"Sorry, Pete.” Wade grinned unrepentantly. “I’ll wait until after you swallow it next time." 

"Fuck me, I hate you.” Peter coughed again and Wade rubbed at his shoulder. “Jesus, that was– no offense man–” he waved at the taco vendor. “–but I’ll stick with the usual if that’s okay with you? Spicy chicken is not my thing apparently.”

"One usual coming up.” he promised and Peter turned back to Wade, leaning in and resting his forehead on Wade’s shoulder without putting any thought into the motion. 

Wade apparently didn’t think anything about it either, since he slid his arm tighter around Peter’s back and held him close, turning his nose into Peter’s hair and inhaling the scent of his shampoo. “Sorry about the fireball chicken taco.” he muttered, then _ooph_ ed when Peter pinched his side savagely. “Ow! Damn Pete! Let’s work on a safe word before we start getting kinky!" 

Peter laughed hard enough to make his entire body shake then, and neither one moved away until the taco vendor cleared his throat and announced, "I have your usual, Mr. Parker." 

"Thank you.” Peter reached for his food with one hand and linked his other fingers with Wade. “So, ridiculous chicken aside, what else do you want to do tonight? I hear they are putting up lights in the park since Christmas is only a few weeks away? That could be fun, or if if’s _not_ fun, at least it will be sparkly which is just as good right?" 

"Pete.” Wade looked down at their linked hands and then up at Peter nervously. “What are you doing?" 

"Oh.” Peter dropped Wade’s hand immediately, and even backed up a step. “Sorry. I just um– sorry. I wasn’t trying to pull anything. We’re friends, Wade. Just friends." 

"Just friends.” Wade repeated and Peter added, “100% professional." 

"Friends don’t have to be professional.” Wade pointed out, fighting a smile and the overwhelming flare of _hope_ when Peter lit up into one of those beautiful grins.

“I guess you’re right about that. Friends don’t have to be professional.” Peter inched closer, and then closer again and reached for Wade’s hand. “This is okay?" 

"Yeah.” Wade swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, this is okay." 

"Lights in the park?” Peter pressed at Wade’s palm. “Or do you want to call it a night?" 

”…I’m not ready to say good night to you yet.“ 

"Oh good.” Peter flushed a little when Wade squeezed his fingers. “I’m not ready to say good night to you either." 


	9. Chapter 9

_A few weeks later_

“Hey hey, I’m not ready to say good night to you yet.” Wade wound his arm around Peter’s waist and tugged him closer. “Where are you going?" **  
**

"I’ve still got a piece to write for work tomorrow.” Peter said reluctantly, and tossed his taco trash away. “And you’ve got that thing with Sam at like six am, don’t you?"

"I could definitely reschedule a fun run with Sam if you wanted to stay.” Wade countered. “Especially since there’s nothing fun about running at all. Whoever coined that phrase should be given a swift roundhouse kick to the face." 

"It’s important that you keep appointments with people who are a positive influence in your life.” Peter recited, clearly quoting the self help book Wade kept on the living room coffee table. “And I know I’m delightful? But Sam is a _much_ better positive influence in your life." 

"Pete–" 

"Last night we ate Cheez Whiz until you coughed it out your nose.” Peter pointed out. “And the day before that we watched six straight hours of reality TV because neither one of us could find the remote. Could have just turned the TV off, but nope. We watched six _solid_ hours of reality dating." 

"Okay, yeah that was pretty bad." 

"We sucked helium and sang Christmas songs until we gave ourselves migraines." 

"Also bad." 

"Face it.” Peter smoothed his hands down Wade’s arms, lingering over the bulge of the former soldiers biceps. “We make the worst decisions together so you should definitely spend the morning with Sam, who consistently is encouraging you to get better and is always glad to see you at group." 

"I sort of hate that you’re all supportive and encouraging me to better my self.” Wade grumbled half heartedly. “You were much more fun when you were just rubbing me with oil and trying to catch a peek at my dick." 

"I resent the implication that I still don’t try to look at your dick.” Peter retorted and Wade only laughed. “Definitely fun run with Sam and then call me after wards. I’ll work on your calves since I’m sure you’re gonna be sore." 

”…really?“ Wade hesitated. "You’d work on me?" 

"Why not?” If Peter noticed he was all but glommed onto Wade’s chest, he didn’t comment. If anything the pretty brunette only scooted closer, tangling their feet and hooking his fingers into Wade’s belt. “If you’re hurting, I’m gonna help you. I’m a trained professional, remember?" 

"I vaguely remember you being something like a massage therapist.” Wade agreed. “Even though our marshmallow eating contest last week gave me a few doubts." 

"That’s fair.” Peter said immediately. “I wouldn’t trust a professional who shouted _chubby bunny_ with eleven marshmallows in their mouth either. That’s perfectly valid. In fact, if you _hadn’t_ doubted my professional status after that I’d worry about you. And also–" 

"I fired my massage therapist last week.” Wade interrupted, and Peter went very still. 

“What? Why?" 

"Because she’s not you?” Wade asked slowly. “Is that an okay reason?" 

"It’s not a real reason.” Peter pointed out, but he didn’t pull away. “Obviously she’s not me, _lots_ of people aren’t me. But why would that matter? We pretty much decided that we could have a working relationship or a friendship but not both, right? So you got another therapist and we– we are friends." 

"Is that what this is?” Wade took a chance and drew his fingers through Peter’s hair, down to fit his palm to the back of Peter’s neck and rub circles over his pulse. “Friendship?" 

"Well yeah.” Peter shivered, leaning his head back into Wade’s palm. “Right? Friendship. We hang out and we laugh and we do stupid things together when we’re drunk. We’ve sort of moved on into holding hands and sure this hug is about eight minutes too long but–" 

"Can I kiss you?" 

"Please _God_ , kiss me.” Peter stood up on his toes and met Wade halfway, their mouths crashing together in the sort of kiss that was months and months and _months_ over due, the sort of kiss that belonged in movies with dramatic storms and soaring musical scores, the kind that left two people gasping and melting, torn between undressing each other right there and maybe just wanting to linger in the innocence of this particular _first_. 

“Wade.” Peter whispered when they finally parted. “Oh my god." 

"Yeah.” Wade leaned back into dot a kiss to Peter’s cheek, to brush his lips over the line of Peter’s jaw. “Yeah, I know. It’s about time, right?" 

"I think um–” Peter was blushing, biting at his lip and trying to inch closer so Wade would keep kissing him. “I think it was right about perfect timing for us, right? Seems like a long time coming, but we did it the right way?" 

"If you say so.” Wade cleared his throat. “Kinda wish our first kiss wasn’t in front of the taco stand though. Seems like I could have been more romantic than that.”

Peter tried and failed to stifle a chuckle. “Tacos are super romantic, what are you talking about?" 

"Tacos _are_ romantic, you’re absolutely right.” Wade dug in his pocket so he could actually pay the very patient taco guy. “We should eat and–" 

He shut up when Peter kissed him again. "Pete?" 

"I’m not ready to say goodnight to you.” Peter said slowly, _clearly_. “But it’s important that you do this run with Sam, and it’s important that I get to work, so I’m going to go. You’ll call me tomorrow so I can work on you when you’re sore?" 

"I’ll call you tomorrow.” Wade nodded, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “For a purely professional massage. Definitely. Definitely will not try and grope my massage therapist." 

"You grope me and I’ll charge you double.” Peter threatened and Wade retorted, “What if it’s just a little grope? I’ll call it a _tip_." 

"I feel like _your_ version of giving me a tip and _my_ version of you giving me a tip are pretty different." 

"I dunno Pete, you’ve been horny for me forever. Pretty sure we’re talking about the same tip." 

"Wade-" 

"SOMEONE TAKE YOUR CHANGE!” The taco guy shouted, obviously having overheard _way_ more than he wanted, obviously fed up with Wade and Peter’s weekly taco stop/flirty episode. 

“Keep the change.” Wade waved the guy off. “Call it a tip. ”

Peter choked on his food as he tried not to laugh and Wade stole just one more kiss. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?" 

"Please call me tomorrow.” Peter’s smile was hopeful, his eyes sparkling. “I can’t wait." 

****************

****************

"How was the fun run?” _Soleus. Peroneal Muscle Group. Gastrocnemius_. Peter mentally recited the names of calf muscles as he worked at Wade’s legs, desperately trying to distract himself from the fact that his friend– boyfriend?– was almost naked under the sheets. “Feel like a champ for finishing?" 

"I feel like hog tying Sam and beating him with a broom for making me do it.” Wade grunted as Peter felt over a particularly tight spot. “He gave me this grand speech about how exercise is just as crucial to healing as therapy and mental exercises are, then he dragged my ass out there in the rain and forced me to watch him run in booty shorts. How is that _healing_?" 

"I feel like you probably didn’t have to stare at him in booty shorts.” Peter countered. _Peroneal longus. Extensor digitorum longus. Achilles_. “There had to be a thousand other places for you to look besides Sam’s ass, right?" 

"The man’s got a nice ass.” Wade admitted and Peter grinned. “It was nice to finish, I guess. I’ve hit all these milestones in therapy but those are just check marks on paper. It felt good to check something off my list that not even healthy people do, you know? Most people will never run a marathon, and I did that today." 

"Yeah, I’m one of those people that will never run a marathon.” Peter hesitated for a split second before sliding his hands up past Wade’s knee to the back of his thigh. “I’d much rather watch from the sidelines and critique people’s forms." 

"That seems hilariously judgmental of you.” Wade tensed under Peter’s fingers, then blew out a deep breath and forced himself to relax. _This is a professional massage_. “And you better _start_ running because I signed us up for the city run this summer." 

"The one in July?” _Semimembranosus muscle. Semitendinosus muscle_. “That seems… I mean, that’s like seven months out. Little far in advance to make plans, don’t you think?" 

"It’s not that far in advance.” Wade hedged. “You uh– you planning on going anywhere, Pete?" 

"I’m planning on being exactly here.” Peter said softly, almost too softly, and to lighten the moment he added, “Charging you ridiculous amounts of money for hour long massages. I want to buy a car this summer, so this is as good a time as any to mention my rates doubled." 

"Doubled, huh?” Wade’s laugh was pained as Peter dug his thumbs into a particularly bad knot. “Why do you need a car?" 

"I can’t take another month in Ye Olde Drug Makers Den, so I’m finally moving apartments.” _Biceps femoris muscl_ e. “Unfortunately all the reasonably priced safer neighborhoods will require a sort of crazy commute and it’d be faster to have a car so I don’t have to deal with the subway. Plus, Jameson is talking about having me travel, so I could write off the car as a business expense. It’d just be nice to have a choice in my transportation, I guess." 

"I got a car you can have.” Wade forced out another one of those slow breaths when Peter moved even higher up his leg. “I couldn’t drive after my injury but selling it always felt like I was admitting I was too fucked up to function. It’s been sitting in storage for a couple years now." 

"Yeah? How much you wanna sell it for?” Peter paused again, reminded himself that he was _definitely_ a professional and he could _definitely_ handle seeing Wade mostly naked while kneading at his – _gulp_ – finely toned ass. They had kissed yesterday and it was fine, it wouldn’t have any bearing on the massage today. It was fine. It was fine it was fine it was fine. 

_Abductor magnus muscle. Gluteus maximus muscle._

_Holy shit, that thing was fine._

“How much do you want to sell the car for?” Peter tried so hard to sound casual just then, hoping the conversation would distract from– from everything. 

“You can just have it.” Wade shifted on the massage table, digging his fingers into the mat. “Doesn’t um– doesn’t make sense for me to– for me– _whew_. Pete, uh maybe we should–" 

"You okay?” Peter paused, gave in to an entirely wicked impulse and spread his hands out over Wade’s rear. “Is this– this is weird right? After we kissed? It’s weird for me to work on you. Should I stop?" 

"No, it feels good.” Wade sounded positively _strangled_. “Feels good after my run and uh– it’s just nice that it’s you but we can’t– I definitely can’t roll over this time, ya feel me?" 

"Shit.” Peter leaned over and rested his forehead between Wade’s shoulder blades. “Wade, I promise I am _actually_ a professional. I dunno what it is about you that makes it impossible to get through a session without skewing innuendo-ish–” Wade snorted a laugh and Peter smiled a little, leaving a feather soft kiss on Wade’s back. “–but let me finish working on you and then maybe we can–”

“Come here.” Faster than Peter was ready for, Wade rolled to his side and yanked Peter down for a kiss, crushing their mouths together and grabbing at Peter’s side to keep him close. 

“Oh my god.” Peter abandoned all pretenses of _professional_ and shoved Wade onto his back, clambering up onto the table to straddle Wade’s waist and to leave bruising kiss after wonderfully bruising kiss on the soldier’s lips. “Wade, _please_." 

"Yeah baby boy, I’ve got you.” Wade’s hands were everywhere, dragging down Peter’s back and grasping at his rear, digging into Peter’s thighs and holding him still so Wade could grind up into him. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you." 

Peter’s shirt probably tore as it was yanked off and tossed aside but nobody cared, and Peter cried when Wade surged up to seal his lips over a pink nipple, blunt teeth on sensitive skin making him nearly scream. He got sweet sweet _sweet_ revenge by worrying a bruise onto the curve of Wade’s neck, not letting up until Wade was panting and swearing and tearing at his pants.

When Wade groaned in frustration over Peter’s skinny jeans, the brunette laughed breathlessly and tried to climb off the table, promising, "Two seconds. Let me get these off and I’ll be right back, two seconds and then you can have me." 

But alas, the massage table was not meant to hold the combined weight of two grown men, much less too grown men rocking the table back and forth and trying to get nekkid and just as Peter was climbing off to get rid of his jeans–

–the table wobbled–

–and cracked–

–and all four legs _shattered_ –

–and an oiled up and mostly naked Wade dropped right onto the floor, toppling a half in-half out of jeans _screeching_ Peter on top of him. 

Peter and Wade stared at each other, at the mess, at the broken table and the splotch of lotion all over the expensive carpet, and just when Peter was gearing up to apologize, Wade collapsed into laughter, full blown side splitting guffaws and after a stunned few seconds, Peter joined him. 

It felt good to laugh, good to release all the pent up sexual tension with some giggles, good to put a halt to the out of control moment with some hilarity. 

Wade was still wiping tears from his eyes a few moments later as he managed, "Alright, so all those smutty videos where the massage therapist gives a client a royal dicking down on the table? False, eh?" 

Peter wheezed for breath, inching across the ruined table to curl into Wade’s side, holding onto him as he shook through a few more laughs. "That was terrible, oh my god. I didn’t think it would actually break." 

"It’s alright anyway.” Wade hooked an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him tight, dropping a quick kiss onto his forehead. “Means we actually have to do this first time _right_ instead of mid massage and in my living room, huh?" 

"I dunno.” Peter kissed Wade back, wrinkling his nose teasingly. “We did everything else about this funky, might as well have funky first time sex too." 

"Funky first time sex.” Wade deadpanned. “Be still my romantic heart. At least let me take you out to dinner, baby." 

"Tacos.” Peter said promptly. “Go get tacos and I’ll get this cleaned up and we can do funky first time sex properly." 

"Yeah alright.” It took all of Wade’s self control to peel away from Peter. Months and _months_ they’d waited to get to this point and now they had to clean up broken massage table and try for dinner and– 

“Why don’t you move in with me?” he blurted before he could stop himself, and Peter’s jaw dropped open. “You need a new place, I have a car you can drive and we’re halfway in love so it’s inevitable anyway. Move in with me." 

”…I think it’s bold of you to invite me to move in before you know how I am in bed.“ Peter said slowly. "Um– what if I’m terrible in the sack? Use teeth when there should be no teeth? What if I’m a total pillow princess and then you have to share your apartment and car with a highly unprofessional massage therapist who gives shitty blow jobs?" 

Wade tried to hide a smile. "You give shitty blow jobs, Pete?" 

"Well I mean–” Peter shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I guess you’ll have to find out, right? No backsies though, whether you like the blowjobs or not, I’ll be living here." 

"No backsies.” Wade rubbed a hand over his bare scalp and nodded as if he wasn’t ready to explode with excitement. “You wanna move in with me?" 

"I definitely do.” Peter’s eyes were shining. “But I’m about two seconds from jumping you again because I’m so happy, so go get tacos and get back so we can do this the right way." 

"I’ll be right back.” Wade promised, and ducked down the hallway to find his clothes. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?" 

"I’ll be right here.” Peter kicked out of the last leg of his jeans so he was just in his shorts. “Right here. _Hurry_." 

Wade was dressed and out the door, nearly running for the elevator when Peter stuck his head out from the apartment and yelled, "And what do you mean, we’re half in love? You better tell me you love me like a real man or the deal’s off!" 

"No backsies!” Wade yelled back, grinning when he heard Peter laughing. “You’re stuck with me now!”


End file.
